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The Art of Public Speaking 









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Copyright 1915 
The Home Correspondence School 
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Table of Contents 


Things to Think of Fntsx— A Fosewokd . . . dc 

Chapter I — ^Acquibing Confidence Before an 

Audience x 

Chapter II— The Sm of Monotony . . . • lo 

Chapter m — ^Efficiency through Emphasis and 

Subordination i6 

Chapter IV— Efficiency through Change of 

Pitch 27 

Chapter V— Efficiency through Change of 

Pace 39 

Chapter VI— Pause AND Power SS 

Chapter vn— Efficiency through Inflection 69 

Chapter Vm — Concentration in Delivery 80 

Chapter IX — Force 87 

Chapter X — Feeling and Enthusiasm . . . ioi 

Chapter XI — ^Fluency through Preparation 115 

Chapter Xn — ^The Voice 125 

Chapter Xin — ^Voice Charm 134 

Chapter XIV — ^Distinctness and Preosion of 

Utterance 146 

Chapter XV— The Truth About Gesture . .156 

Chapter XVI— Methods of Delivery ... 171 



Chapter XVn— Thought AND Reserve Power . 184 


Chapter XVni — Subject and Preparation . . 199 

Chapter XIX — ^Inpluencing by ExposmoN . . 218 

Chapter XX — ^Influencing by Description . . 231 

Chapter XXI — ^Influencing by Narration . . 249 

Chapter XXn — ^Influencing by Suggestion 262 

Chapter XXlll— Influencing by Argument 280 

Chapter XXIV — ^Influencing by Persuasion 295 

Chapter XXV — Influencing the Crowd . . 308 

Chapter XXVI — Riding the Winged Horse . . 321 

Chapter XXVn — Growing a Vocabulary . . 334 

Chapter XXVUI — ^Memory Training . . . 343 

Chapter XXIX — ^Right Thinking and Person- 
ality 355 

Chapter XXX — ^After-Dinner and other Occa- 
sional Spearing 362 

Chapter XXXI — ^Making Conversation Effec- 
tive 372 

Appendix A — ^Fifty Questions for Debate . . 379 

Appendix B — ^Thirty Themes for Speeches, with 

Source-References 383 

Appendix C — Suggestive Subjects for Speeches; 

Hints FOR Treatment 386 

Appendix D — ^Speeches for Study and Practise 394 

General Index 506 

Things to Think of First 


The efficiency of a book is like that of a man, in one im- 
portant respect: its attitude toward its subject is the first 
source of its power. A book may be full of good ideas well 
expressed, but if its writer views his subject from the wrong 
angle even his excellent advice may prove to be ineffective. 

This book stands or falls by its authors' attitude toward 
its subject. K the best way to teach oneself or others 
to speak eJQFectively in public is to fill the mind with rules, 
and to set up fixed standards for the interpretation of 
thought, the utterance of language, the making of ges- 
tures, and all the rest, then this book will be limited in 
value to such stray ideas throughout its pages as may 
prove helpful to the reader — as an eflFort to enforce a 
group of principles it must be reckoneyd a f ailmre, because 
it is then untrue. 

It is of some importance, therefore, to those who take 
up this volume with open mind that they should see 
clearly at the out-start what is the thought that at once 
underlies and is builded through this structure. In plain 
words it is this: 

Training in public speaking is not a matter of externals 
— primarily; it is not a matter of imitation — ^fimdamen- 
tally; it is not a matter of conformity to standards — ^at 
all. Public speaking is public utterance, public issuance, 
of the man himself; therefore the first thing both in time 
and in importance is that the man should be and think 
and feel things that are worthy of being given forth. 


Unless there be something of value within, no tricks of 
training can ever make of the talker anything more than 
a machine — albeit a highly perfected machine — ^for the 
ddivery of other men's goods. So self-development is 
fundamental in our plan. 

The second principle lies dose to the first: The man must 
enthrone his will to rule over his thought, his feelings, and 
all his physical powers, so that the outer self may give per- 
fect, unhampered expression to the inner. It is futile, we 
assert, to lay down systems of rules for voice culture, in- 
tonation, gesture, and what not, unless these two principles 
of having something to say and making the will sovereign 
have at least b^un to make themselves felt in the life. 

The third principle will, we surmise, arouse no dispute: 
No one can learn hew to speak who does not first speak as 
best he can. That may seem like a vicious circle in 
statement, but it will bear examination. 

Many teachers have b^un with the haw. Vain effort! 
It is an ancient truism that we learn to do by doing. The 
first thing for the beginner in public speaking is to speak — 
not to study voice and gesture and the rest. Once he has 
spoken he can improve himself by self-observation or 
according to the critidsms of those who hear. 

But how shall he be able to criticise himself? Simply 
by finding out three things: What are the qualities which 
by common consent go to make up an effective speaker; 
by what means at least some of these qualities may be 
acquired; and what wrong habits of speech in himself 
work against his acquiring and using the qualities which 
he finds to be good. 


Experience, then, is not only the best teacher, but the 
first and the last. But experience must be a dual thing — 
the experience of others must be used to supplement, 
correct and justify our own experience; in this way we 
shall become our own best critics only after we have 
trained ourselves in self-knowledge, the knowledge of 
what other minds think, and in the ability to judge our- 
selves by the standards we have come to believe are 
right. " U I ought," said Kant, " I can." 

An examination of the contents of this volume will show 
how consistently these articles of faith have been de- 
clared, expounded, and illustrated. The student is urged 
to b^in to speak at once of what he knows. Then he is 
given simple suggestions for self-control, with gradually 
increasing emphasis upon the power of the inner man over 
the outer. Next, the way to the rich storehouses of 
material is pointed out. And finally, all the while he is 
urged to speak, speak^ SPEAK as he is appl}dng to his own 
methods, in his own personal way, the principles he has 
gathered from his own experience and observation and 
the recorded experiences of others. 

So now at the very first let it be as dear as light that 
methods are secondary matters; that the full mind, the 
warm heart, the dominant wiU are primary — and not only 
primary but paramount; for unless it be a full being that 
uses the methods it wiU be like dressing a wooden image 
in the clothes of a man. 

J. Berg Esenwein. 
Narberth, Pa., 
January i, 191 5. 



Sense never fails to give them that have it, Words enough to 
make them understood. It too often happexis in some conver- 
sations, as in Apothecary Shops, that those Pots that are Bmptv, 
or have Things of small Value in them, are as gaudily Dress d 
as those that are full oi precious Drugs. 

They that soar too high, often fall hard, making a low a&d 
level DwelUng preferable. The tallest Trees are most in the 
Power of the Winds, and Ambitious Men of the Blasts of Fortune. 
Buildings have need of a good Foundation, that lie so much ex- 
posed to the Weather. 

—William Pbnn. 



There is a strange sensation often experienced in the presence 
of an audience. It may proceed from the gaze of the many eyes 
that torn upon the speaker, especially if he permits himself to 
steadily return that gaze. Most speakers have been conscious 
of this in a nameless thrill, a real something, pervading the atmos- 
phere, tangible, evanescent, indescribable. All writers have 
borne testimony to the power of a speaker's eye in impressing 
an audience. This influence which we are now considering is 
the reverse of that picture — ^the power their eyes may exert 
upon him, especially before he begins to speak: after the inward 
fires of oratory are fanned into flame the eyes of the audience 
lose an terror. — ^William Pittbngbk, Extempore Speech. 

Students of public speaking continually ask, "How can 
I overcome self-consciousness and the fear that paralyzes 
me before an audience?" 

Did you ever notice in looking from a train window 
that some horses feed near the track and never even 
pause to look up at the thundering cars, while just 
ahead at the next railroad crossing a farmer's wife will 
be nervously trying to quiet her scared horse as the 
train goes by? 

How would you cure a horse that is afraid of cars — graze 
him in a back-woods lot where he would never see steam- 
engines or automobiles, or drive or pasture him where he 
would frequently see the machines? 

Apply horse-sense to ridding yourself of self-conscious- 
ness and fear: face an audience as frequently as you can, 


and you will soon stop sh3dng. You can never attain free- 
dom from stage-fright by reading a treatise. A book may 
give you excellent suggestions on how best to conduct yoMi- 
self in the water, but sooner or later you must geVwet, per- 
haps even strangle and be ''half scared to death." There 
are a great many '' wetless" bathing suits worn at the sea- 
shore, but no one ever learns to swim in them. To plunge 
is the only way. 

Practise, practise, PRACTISE in speaking before an 
audience will tend to remove all fear of audiences, just 
as practice in swimming will lead to confidence and 
facility in the water. You must learn to speak by speaking. 

The Apostle Paul tells us that every man must work out 
his own salvation. All we can do here is to ofiFer you sug- 
gestions as to how best to prepare for your plunge. The 
real plunge no one can take for you. A doctor may pre- 
scribe, but you must take the medicine. 

Do not be disheartened if at first you suffer from stage- 
fright. Dan Patch was more susceptible to suffering 
than a superannuated dray horse would be. It never hurts 
a fool to appear before an audience, for his capacity is 
not a capacity for feeling. A blow that would kill a 
civilized man soons heals on a savage. The higher we go 
in the scale of life, the greater is the capacity for suffering. 

For one reason or another, some master-speakers never 
entirely overcome stage-fright, but it will pay you to 
spare no pains to conquer it. Daniel Webster failed in his 
first appearance and had to take his seat without finishing 
his speedi because he was nervous. Gladstone was often 
troubled with self -consciousness in the beginning of an ad- 


dress. Beecher was always perturbed before talking 
in public. 

Blacksmiths sometimes twist a rope tight around the 
nose of a horse, and by thus inflicting a little pain they 
distract his attention from the shoeing process. One way 
to get air out of a glass is to pour in water. 

Be Absorbed by Your Subject 

Apply the blacksmith's homely principle when you are 
q>eaking. If you fed deq)ly about your subject you will 
be able to think of little else. Concentration is a proc- 
ess of distraction from less important matters. It is 
too late to think about the cut of your coat when once you 
are upon the platform, so centre your interest on what 
you are about to say — ^fill your mind with your speech- 
material and, Uke the infilling water in the glass, it will 
drive out your imsubstantial fears. 

Self-consciousness is imdue consciousness of self, and, 
for the purpose of delivery, self is secondary to your sub- 
ject, not only in the opinion of the audience, but, if you 
are wise, in your own. To hold any other view is to r^ard 
yourself as an exhibit instead of as a messenger with a 
message worth delivering. Do you remember Elbert 
Hubbard's tremendous little tract, ''A Message to Gar- 
da"? The youth subordinated himself to the message 
he bore. So must you, by all the determination you can 
muster. It is sheer ^otism to fill your mind with thoughts 
of self when a greater thing is there — TRUTH. Say this 
to yourself sternly, and shame yom: self-consciousness into 


quiescence. If the theater caught fire you could rush to 
the stage and shout directions to the audience without any 
self-consdousness, for the importance of what you were 
sa3dng would drive all fear-thoughts out of your mind. 

Far worse than self-consciousness through fear of doing 
poorly is self-consciousness through assumption of doing 
well. The first sign of greatness is when a man does not"" 
attempt to look and act great. Before you can call your- 
self a man at all, Kipling assures us, you must "not look 
too good nor talk too wise." 

Nothing advertises itself so thoroughly as conceit. One 
may be so full of self as to be empty. Voltaire said, "We 
must conceal self-love." But that can not be done. You 
know this to be true, for you have recognized overweening 
self-love in others. If you have it, others are seeing it in 
you. There are things in this world bigger than self, and 
in working for them self will be forgotten, or — ^what is 
better — ^remembered only so as to help us win toward 
higher things. 

Haoe Something to Say 

The trouble with many speakers is that they go before 
an audience with their minds a blank. It b no wonder 
that nature, abhorring a vacuum, fills them with the nearest 
thing handy, which generally happens to be, "I wonder 
if I am doing this right! How does my hair look? I know 
I shall fail." Their prophetic souls are sure to be right. 

It is not enough to be absorbed by your subject — to 
acquire self-confidence you must have something in which 
to be confident. If you go before an audience without any 


preparation, or previous knowledge of your subject, you 
ought to be self-conscious — ^you ought to be ashamed to 
steal the time of your audience. Prepare yourself. Know 
what you are going to talk about, and, in general, how you 
are going to say it Have the first few sentences worked 
out completely so that you may not be troubled in the 
b^inning to find words. Know your subject better than 
your hearers know it, and you have nothing to fear. 

After Preparing far Success, Expect It 

Let your bearing be modestly confident, but most of 
all be modestly confident within. Over-confidence is 
bad, but to tolerate premonitions of failure is worse, for a 
bold man may win attention by his very bearing, while a 
rabbit-hearted coward invites disaster. 

Humility is not the personal discount that we must 
offer in the presence of others — against this old inter- 
pretation there has been a most healthy modem reaction. 
True humility any man who thoroughly knows himself 
must feel; but it is not a hiunility that assumes a worm- 
like meekness; it is rather a strong, vibrant prayer for 
greater power for service — a prayer that Uriah Heep could 
never have uttered. 

Washington Irving once introduced Charles Dickens 
at a dinner given in the latter's honor. In the middle of 
his speedi Irving hesitated, became embarrassed, and 
sat down awkwardly. Turning to a friend beside him he 
remarked, ''There, I told you I would fail, and I did" 

If you believe you will fail, there ia no hope for you. 
You will. 


Rid yourself of this I-am-a-poor-worm-in-the-dust idea. 
You are a god, with infinite capabilities. ''All things are 
ready if the mind be so." The eagle looks the cloudless 
sun in the face. 

Assume Mastery Over Your Audience 

In public speech, as in electricity, there is a positive 
and a negative force. Either you or your audience are 
going to possess the positive factor. If you assume it 
you can almost invariably make it yours. If you assume 
the n^ative you are sure to be n^ative. Assuming a 
virtue or a vice vitalizes it Summon all your power 
of self-direction, and remember that though your audience 
is infinitely more important than you, the truth is more 
important than both of you, because it is eternal. If your 
mind falters in its leadership the sword will drop from your 
hands. Your assumption of bdng able to instruct or 
lead or inspire a multitude or even a small group of pe<9le 
may appall you as being colossal impudence — as indeed it 
maybe; but having once essayed to speak, be courageous. 
BE courageous — ^it lies within you to be what you will. 
MAKE yourself be calm and confident. 

Reflect that your audience will not hurt you. IfBeecher 
in Liverpool had spoken behind a wire screen he 
would have invited the audience to throw the over-ripe 
missiles with which they were loaded; but he was a man, 
confronted his hostile hearers fearlessly — and won them. 

In facing your audience, pause a moment and look them 
over — a hundred chances to one they want you to ftcceed, 
for what man is so foolish as to spend his time, perhaps 


his moneyi in the hope that you, will waste his investment 
by talking dully? 

Condudmg Hints 

Do not make haste to begin — Chaste shows lack of con- 

Do not apologize. It ought not to be necessary; and 
if it is, it will not help. Go straight ahead. 

Take a deep breath, relax, and begin in a quiet con* 
versational tone as though you were speaking to one large 
friend. You will not find it half so bad as you imagined; 
really, it is like taking a cold plunge: after you are in, 
the water is fine. In fact, having spoken a few times you 
will even anticipate the plunge with exhilaration. To 
stand before an audience and make them think your 
thoughts after you is one of the greatest pleasures you can 
ever know. Instead of fearing it, you ought to be as 
anxious as the fox hounds straining at their leashes, or 
the race horses tugging at their reins. 

So cast out fear, for fear is cowardly — ^when it is not 
mastered. The bravest know fear, but they do not yield 
to it. Face your audience pluckily — ^if your knees quake, 
MAKE them stop. In your audience lies some victory 
for you and the cause you represent. Go win it. Suppose 
Charles Martell had been afraid to hammer tha Saracen 
at Tours; suppose Columbus had feared to venture out 
into the imknown West; suppose our forefathers had been 
tpo timid to oppose the tyrrany of George the Third; 
suppiW that any man who ever did anything worth while 
had been a cowardi The world owes its progress to the 


men who have dared, and you must dare to speak the 
effective word that is in your heart to speak — ^for often 
it requires courage to utter a single sentence. But re- 
member that men erect no monuments and weave no 
laurels for those who fear to do what they can. 

Is all this uns3rmpathetic, do you say? 

Man, what you need is not sympathy, but a push. No 
one doubts that temperament and nerves and illness and 
even praiseworthy modesty may, singly or combined, 
cause the speaker's cheek to blanch before an audience, 
but neither can any one doubt that coddling will magnify 
this weakness. The victory lies in a fearless frame of mind. 
Prof. Walter Dill Scott says: ''Success or failure in busi- 
ness is caused more by mental attitude even than by men- 
tal capacity.'' Banish the fear-attitude; acquire the con- 
fident attitude. And remember that the only way to 
acquire it is — to acquire it. 

In this foundation chapter we have tried to strike the 
tone of much that is to follow. Many of these ideas will 
be amplified and enforced in a more specific way; but 
through all these chapters on an art which Mr. Gladstone 
believed to be more powerful than the public press, the 
note of justifiable self-confidence must sound again and 


I. What is the cause of self-consdousness? 
3. Why are animals free from it? 


3. What is your observation regarding self-consdoiis- 
ness in children? 

4. Why are you free from it under the stress of un- 
usual excitement? 

5. How does moderate excitement affect you? 

6. What are the two fundamental requisites for the 
acquiring of self-confidence? Which is the more important? 

7. What effect does confidence on the part of the 
speaker have on the audience? 

8. Writc^out a two-minute speech on ''Confidence and 

9. What effect do habits of thought have on confidence? 
In this connection read the chapter on "Right Thinking 
and Personality." 

10. Write out very briefly any experience you may have 
had involving the teachings of this chapter. 

11. Give a three-minute talk on " Stage-Fright/' in- 
cluding a (kindly) imitation of two or more victims. 





One day Ennui was bom from Uniformity. — ^Mottb. 

Our English has changed with the years so that many 
words now connote more than they did originally. This is 
true of the word monotonous. From " having but one tone," 
it has come to mean more broadly, '^lack of variation/' 

The monotonous speaker not only drones along in the 
same volume and pitch of tone but uses always the same 
emphasis, the same speed, the same thoughts — or dis- 
penses with thought altogether. 

Monotony, thecardinal and most common sin of the pub- 
lic speaker, is not a transgression — ^it is rather a sin of omis- 
sion, for it consists in living up to the confession of the 
Prayer Book: ''We have left undone those things we 
ought to have done." 

Emerson sa3rs, ''The virtue of art lies in detachment, 
in sequestering one object from the embarrassing variety/' 
That is just what the monotonous speaker fails to do — he 
does not detach one thought or phrase from another, they 
are all expressed in the same manner. 

To tell you that your speech is monotonous may mean 
very little to you, so let us look at the nature — and the 
curse — of monotony in other spheres of life, then we shall 
appreciate more fully how it will blight an otherwise good 


If the Victrola in the adjoining apartment grinds out 
just three selections over and over again, it is pretty safe 
to assume that yom: neighbor has no other records. If a 
^>eaker uses only a few of his powers, it points very plainly 
to the fact that the rest of his powers are not developed. 
Monotony reveals our limitations. 

In its effect on its victim, monotony is actually deadly — 
it will drive the bloom from the cheek and the lustre from 
the eye as quickly as sin, and often leads to vidousness. 
The worst punishment that human ingenuity has ever been 
able to invent is extreme monotony — solitary confinement. 
Lay a marble on the table and do nothing eighteen hours of 
the day but change that marble from one point to another 
and back again, and you will go insane if you continue 
long enough. 

So this thing that shortens life, and is used as the most 
cruel of punishments in our prisons, is the thing that will 
destroy all the life and force of a speech. Avoid it as you 
would shun a deadly dull bore. The " idle rich " can have 
half-a-dozen homes, command all the varieties of foods 
gathered firom the fom: comers of the earth, and sail for 
Africa or Alaska at their pleasure; but the poverty- 
stricken man must walk or take a street car — ^he does not 
have the choice of yacht, auto, or special train. He must 
spend the most of his life in labor and be content with 
the staples of the food-market. Monotony is poverty, 
whether in speech or in life. Strive to increase the variety 
of your speech as the business man labors to augment his 

Bird-songs, forest glens, and mountains are not mono- 


tonous — ^it is the long rows of brown-stone fronts and the 
miles of paved streets that are so terribly same. Nature 
in her wealth gives us endless variety; man with his 
limitations is often monotonous. Get back to nature in 
your methods of speech-making. 

The power of variety lies in its pleasure-giving quality. 
The great truths of the world have often been couched in 
fascinating stories — ''Les Miserables," for instance. If 
you wish to teach or influence men, you must please them, 
first or last. Strike the same note on the piano over and 
over again. This will give you some idea of the displeasing, 
jarring effect monotony has on the ear. The dictionary 
defines '^monotonous" as being synonymous with "weari- 
some." That is putting it mildly. It is maddening. The 
department-store prince does not disgust the public, by 
playing only the one tune, "Come Buy My WaresI" He 
gives recitals on a $125,000 organ, and the pleased 
people naturally slip into a buying mood. 

How to Conquer Monotony 

We obviate monotony in dress by replenishing our 
wardrobes. We avoid monotony in speech by multi- 
plying our powers of speech. We multiply our powers of 
speech by increasing our tools. 

The carpenter has special implements with which to 
construct the several parts of a building. The organist 
has certain keys and stops which he manipulates to pro- 
duce his harmonies and effects. In like manner the q;)eaker 
has certain instruments and tools at his conmiand by 
which he builds his argument, plays on the feelings, and 


guides the beliefs of his audience. To give you a concep- 
tion of these instruments, and practical help in learning 
to use them, are the purposes of the immediately following 

Why did not the Children of Israel whirl through the 
desert in limousines, and why did not Noah have moving- 
picture entertainments and talking machines on the Ark? 
The laws that enable us to op>erate an autombbile, pro- 
duce moving-pictures, or music on the Victrola, would 
have worked just as well then as they do today. It was 
ignorance of law that for ages deprived htunanity of our 
modem conveniences. Many speakers still use ox-cart 
methods in their speech instead of employing automobile 
or overland-express methods. They are ignorant of laws 
that make for efficiency in speaking. Just to the extent 
that you r^ard and use the laws that we are about to 
examine and learn how to use will you have efficiency and 
force in your speaking; and just to the extent that you 
disr^ard them will your speaking be feeble and ineffec- 
tive. We cannot impress too thoroughly upon you the 
necessity for a real working mastery of these principles. 
They are the very foundations of successful speaking. 
** Get your principles right," said Napoleon," and the rest 
is a matter of detail." 

It is useless to shoe a dead horse, and all the sound 
principles in Christendom will never make a live speech 
out of a dead one. So let it be understood that public 
speaking is not a matter of mastering a few dead rules; the 
most important law of public speech is the necessity for 
truth, force, feeling, and life. Forget all else, but not this. 


When you have mastered the mechanics of speech out- 
lined in the next few chapters you will no longer be troubled 
with monotony. The complete knowledge of these prin- 
ciples and the ability to apply them will give you great 
variety in your powers of expression. But they cannot 
be mastered and applied by thinking or reading about 
them — ^you must practise, practise^ PRACTISE. K no 
one else will listen to you, listen to yourself — ^you must 
always be your own best critic, and the severest one of all. 

The technical principles that we lay down in the follow- 
ing chapters are not arbitrary creations of o\ir own. They 
are all founded on the practices that good speakers and 
actors adopt — either naturally and unconsciously or 
under instruction — ^in getting their effects. 

It is useless to warn the student that he must be natural. 
To be natural may be to be monotonous. The little straw- 
berry up in the arctics with a few tiny seeds and an add 
tang is a natiiral berry, but it is not to be compared with 
the improved variety that we enjoy here. The dwarfed 
oak on the rocky hillside is natural, but a poor thing com- 
pared with the beautiful tree foimd in the rich, moist 
bottom lands. Be natural — ^but improve your natural 
gifts until you have approached the ideal, for we must 
strive after idealized natiire, in fruit, tree, and speech. 


1. What are the causes of monotony? 

2. Cite some instances in nature. 

3. Cite instances in man's daily life. 


4* Describe some of the effects of monotony in both 

5. Read aloud some speech without pa3dng particular 
attention to its meaning or force. 

6. Now rq>eat it after you have thoroughly assimilated 
its matter and spirit What difference do you notice in 
its rendition? 

7. Why is monotony one of the worst as wdl as one 
of the most conmion faults of speakers? 




In a word, the principle of emphasis .... is followed 
best, not by remembering particular rules, but by being full 
of a particular feeling. — C. S. Baldwin, Writing and Speaking. 

The gun that scatters too much does not bag the birds. 
The same principle applies to speech. The speaker that 
fires his force and emphasis at random into a sentence will 
not get results. Not every word is of special importance 
— ^therefore only certain words demand emphasis. 

You say MassaC^TZ/setts and Minne^lPolis, you do not 
emphasize each syllable alike, but hit the accented 
syllable with force and hurry over the unimportant ones. 
Now why do you not apply this principle in speaking a 
sentence? To some extent you do, in ordinary speech; 
but do you in public discoiirse? It is there that monotony 
caused by lack of emphasis is so painfully apparent. 

So far as emphasis is concerned, you may consider the 
average sentence as just one big word, with the important 
word as the accented syllable. Note the following: 

''Destiny is not a matter of chance. It is a matter of 
choice." . 

You nught as well say MAJS^-CHU'SETTS, em- 
phasizing every syllable equally, as to lay equal stress 
on each word in the forgoing sentences. 

Speak it aloud and see. Of course you will want to em- 


phaaize destiny ^ for it is the principal idea in your declara- 
tion, and you will put some emphasis on noi^ else your 
hearers may think you are afiSrming that destiny is a 
matter of chance. By all means you must emphasize 
chance^ for it is one of the two big ideas in the statement. 

Another reason why chance takes emphasis is that it 
is contrasted with chofce in the next sentence. Obviously, 
the author has contrasted these ideas purposely, 
so that they might be more emphatic, and here we 
see that contrast is one of the very first devices to gain 

As a public speaker you can assist this emphasis of con- 
trast with your voice. K you say, "My horse is not 
Uacky" what color immediately comes into mind? White, 
naturally, for that is the opposite of black. If you wish 
to bring out the thought that destiny is a matter of choice, 
you can do so more effectively by first saying that ^^ DES- 
TINY is NOT a matter of CHANCE:' Is not the color 
of the horse impressed upon us more emphatically when 
you say, "My horse is NOT BLACK. He is WHITE'' 
than it would be by hearing you assert merely that 
yo\ir horse is white? 

In the second sentence of the statement there is only one 
important word — choice. It is the one word that posi- 
tively defines the quality of the subject being discussed, 
and the author of those lines desired to bring it out 
emphatically, as heUts shown by contrasting it with 
another idea. These lines, then, would read like this: 

''DESTINY is NOT a matter of CHANCE. It is 
a matter of CHOICE." Now read this over, striking 

• <• 


the words in capitals with a great deal of force. 

In almost every sentence there are a few MOUNTAIN 
PEAK WORDS that represent the big, important ideas. 
When you pick up the evening paper you can tell 
at a glance which are the important news articles. 
Thanks to the editor, he does not tell about a ''hold up" 
in Hong Kong in the same sized type as he uses to report 
the death of five firemen in your home dty. Size of type 
is his device to show emphasis in bold relief. He brings 
out sometimes even in red headlines the striking news of 
the day. 

It would be a boon to speech-making if speakers would 
conserve the attention of their audiences in the same way 
and emphasize only the words rq)resenting the important 
ideas. The average speaker will deliver the foregoing 
line on destiny with about the same amount of emphasis 
on each word. Instead of saying, ''It is a matter of 
CHOICE,'' he will deliver it, "It is a matter of choice," 
ot'^IT IS A MATTEROP CHOICE"— both equBUyhsid. 

Charles Dana, the famous editor of The New York Sun, 
told one of his reporters that if he went up the street and 
saw a dog bite a man, to pay no attention to it. The Sw^ 
could not afford to waste the time and attention of its 
readers on such unimportant happenings. "But," said Mr. 
Dana, "if you see a man bite a dog, hurry back to the 
office and write the story." Of course that is news; that 
is unusual. 

Now the speaker who says "/r IS A MATTER OP 
CHOICE" is putting too much emphasis upon things 
that are of no more importance to metropolitan readers 


than a dog bite, and when he fails to emphasize '' choice '' 
he is like the reporter who ''passes up" the man's biting 
a dog. The ideal speaker makes his big words stand out 
like mountain peaks; his unimportant words are sub- 
merged like stream-beds. His big thoughts stand like huge 
oaks; his ideas of no especial value are merely like the 
grass around the tree. 

From all this we may deduce this important principle: 
EMPHASIS is a matter of CONTRAST and CX)M' 

Recently the New York American featured an editorial 
by Arthur Brisbane. Note the following, printed in the 
same type as given here. 

We do not know what the President THOUGHT 
when he got that message, or ^diat the elephant fliinks 
when he sees the moose, but we do know what the 
President DID. 

The words THOUGHT and DID inunediatdy catch 
the reader's attention because they are different from the 
others, not especially because they are larger. If all the 
rest of the words in this sentence were made ten times 
as large as they are, and DID and THOUGHT were 
kq)t at their present size, they would still be emphatic, 
because different. 

Take the following from Robert Chambers' novel, 
"The Business of life." The words you^ kady wauld^ 
are all emphatic, because they have been made different. 

He looked at her in angry astonishment. 
"Wen, what do you call it if it isn't cowardice — ^to slink off and 
many a defenseless girl like thatl" 


"Did you expect me to give you a chance to destroy me and 
poison Jacqueline's mind? If I had been guilty of the thing with 
which you charge me, what I have done would have been 
cowardly. Otherwise, it is justified." 

A Fifth Avenue bus would attract attention up at 
Minisink Ford, New York, while one of the ox teams that 
frequently pass there would attract attention on Fifth 
Avenue. To make a word emphatic, deliver it differently 
from the manner in which the words surrounding it are 
delivered. If you have been talking loudly, utter the 
emphatic word in a concentrated whisper — ^and you have 
intense emphasis. If you have been going fast, go very 
slow on the emphatic word. If you have been talking on 
a low pitch, jump to a high one on the emphatic word. If 
you have been talking on a high pitch, take a low one on 
your emphatic ideas. Read the chapters on "Inflection," 
"Feeling," "Pause," "Change of Pitch," "Change of 
Tempo." Each of these will explain in detail how to get 
emphasis through the use of a certain principle. 

In this chapter, however, we are considering only one 
form of emphasis: that of applying force to the important 
word and subordinating the unimportant words. Do not 
forget: this is one of the main methods that you must 
continually employ in getting your effects. 

Let us not confound loudness with emphasis. To yell 
is not a sign of earnestness, intelligence, or feeling. The 
kind of force that we want applied to the emphatic 
word is not entirely physical. True, the emphatic word 
may be spoken more loudly, or it may be spoken more 
softly, but the real quality desired is intensity, earnestness. 
It must come from within, outward. 


Last night a speaker said: ''The curse of this country 
is not alack of ^ucation. It's i^Iitics." He emphasized 
cursCy lack, education, politics. The other words were 
hurried over and thus given no comparative importance 
at all. The word politics was flamed out with great 
feeling as he slapped his hands together indignantly. His 
emphasis was both correct and powerful. He concentrated 
all our attention on the words that meant something, in- 
stead of holding it up on such words as of tkis, a, of, Ifs, 

What would you think of a guide who agreed to show 
New York to a stranger and then took up his time by visit- 
ing Chinese laundries and boot-blacking "parlors" on the 
side streets? There is only one excuse for a speaker's 
asking the attention of his audience: He must have either 
truth or entertainment for them. If he wearies their 
attention with trifles they will have neither vivacity nor 
desire left when he reaches words of Wall-Street and sky- 
scraper importance. You do not dwell on these small 
words in your everyday conversation, because you are 
not a conversational bore. Apply the correct method of 
everyday speech to the platform. As we have noted else- 
where, public speaking is very much like conversation en- 

Sometimes, for big emphasis, it is advisable to lay stress 
on every single syllable in a word, as absolutely in the 
following sentence: 

I ab-so-lute-ly refuse to grant your demand. 

Now and then this principle should be applied to an 
emphatic sentence by stressing each word. It is a good 


device for ezdting special attention^ and it furnishes a 
pleasing variety. Patrick Henry's notable climax could 
be delivered in that manner very effectively: " Give-me- 
liberty-or-give-me-death. " The italicized part of the 
following might also be delivered with this every- word em- 
phasis. Of course, there are many ways of delivering it; 
this is only one of several good interpretations that might 
be chosen. 

Knowing the price we must pay, the sacrifice we must make, 
the burdens we must cany, the assaults we must endure — ^knowing 
full well the cost — ^yet we enlist, and we enlist for the war. For 
we know the justice of our cause, and we know, too, Us certain 
triumph. — From "Pass Prosperity Around," by Albert J. 
BEVERmGE, before the Chicago National Convention of the Pro- 
gressive Party, 

Strongly emphasizing a single word has a tendency to 
suggest its antithesis. Notice how the meaning changes 
by merely putting the emphasis on different words in the 
following sentence. The parenthetical expressions would 
really not be needed to supplement the emphatic words. 

/ intended to buy a house this Spring (even if you did not). 

I INTENDED to buy a house this Spring (but something pre- 

I intended ix> BUY & house this Spring (instead of renting as 

I intended to buy a HOUSE this Spring (and not an automobile). 

I intended to buy a house THIS Spring (instead of next Spring). 

I intended to buy a house this SPRING (instead of in the 

When a great battle is reported in the papers, they do 
not keep emphasizing the same facts over and over again. 


They try to get new information, or a "new slant." The 
news that takes an important place in the morning edition 
will be relegated to a small space in the late afternoon 
edition. We are interested in new ideas and new facts. 
This principle has a very important bearing in determining 
your emphasis. Do not emphasize the same idea over 
and over again unless you desire to lay extra stress on it; 
Senator Thurston desired to put the maximum amount of 
emphasis on "force" in his speech on page 50. Note how 
force is emphasized repeatedly. As a general rule/ how- 
ever, the new idea, the "new slant," whether in a news- 
paper report of a battle or a speaker's enunciation of 
his ideas, is emphatic. 

In the following selection, "larger" is emphatic, for 
it is the new idea. All men have eyes, but this man asks 
for a LARGER eye. 

This man with the larger eye says he will discover, not 
rivers or safety appliances for aeroplanes, but NEW 
STARS and SUNS. "New stars and suns" are hardly as 
empha,Jic as the word "larger." Why? Because we expect 
an astronomer to discover heavenly bodies rather than 
cooking recipes. The words, "Republic needs" in the 
next sentence, are emphatic; they introduce a new and 
important idea. Republics have always needed men, but 
the author says they need NEW men. "New" is 
emphatic because it introduces a new idea. In like 
maimer, "soil," "grain," "tools," are also emphatic. 

The most emphatic words are italicized in this selection. 
Are there any others you would emphasize? Why? 


The old astronomer said, "Give me a larger eye, and I will dis- 
cover new stars and suns" That is what the repMic needs today 
— new men — ^men who are wise toward the soil, toward the grains, 
toward the tods. If God would only raise up for the people two 
or three men like Watt, Fulton and McCormick, they would be 
worth mare to the State than that treasure box named CaUfomia 
or Mexico. And the real supremacy of man is based upon his 
capacity for education, Man is unique in the length of his chUd- 
hood, which means the period of plasticity and education. The 
childhood of a moth, the distance that stands between the hatching 
of the robin and its maturity, represent a few hours or a, few weeks, 
but twenty years for growth stands between man*s cradle and his 
citizenship. This protracted childhood makes it possible to 
hand over to the boy all the accumulated stores achieved by races 

and civilisations through thousands of years. 

— Anonymous. 

You must understand that there are no steel-riveted 
rules of emphasis. It is not always possible to designate 
which word must, and which must not be emphasized. 
One speaker will put one interpretation on a speech, 
another speaker will use different emphasis to bring 
out a different interpretation. No one can say that one 
interpretation is right and the other wrong. This prin- 
ciple must be borne in mind in all our marked exercises. 
Here your own intelligence must guide — ^and greatly to 
your profit. 


1. What is emphasis? 

2. Describe one method of destroying monotony of 

3. What relation does this have to the use of the voice? 

4. Which words should be emphasized, which sub- 
ordinated, in a sentence? 


5. Read the selections on pages 50, 51, 52, 53 and 54, 
devoting special attention to emphasizing the important 
words or phrases and subordinating the unimportant ones. 
Read again, changing emphasis slightiy. What is the effect? 

6. Read some sentence repeatedly, emphasizing a 
different word each time, and show how the meaning is 
changed, as is done on page 22. 

7. What is the effect of a lack of emphasis? \/ 

8. Read the selections on pages 30 and 48, empha- 
sizing every word. What is the effect on the emphasis? 

9. When is it permissible to emphasize every single 
word in a sentence? 

10. Note the emphasis and subordination in some 
conversation or speech you have heard. Were they well 
made? Why? Can you suggest any improvement? 

1 1 . From a newspaper or a magazine, clip a report of an 
address, or a biographical eulogy. Mark the passage for 
emphasis and bring it with you to class. 

12. In the following passage, would you make any 
changes in the author's markings for emphasis? Where? 
Why? Bear in mind that not all words marked require 
the same de^ee of emphasis — in a wide ifarieiy of emphasis, 
and in nice shading of the gradoHons, lie the excellence of 
emphatic speech. 

I would -call him Napoleon, but Napoleon made his way to 
empire over broken oaths and through a sea of blood. This man 
never broke his word. " No Retaliation '* was his great motto and 
the rule of his life; and the last words uttered to his son in Prance 
were these: " My boy, you will one day go back to Santo Domin- 
go; forget that France murdered your father." I would call him 


Cromwell, but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the state he found- 
ed wetU down with him into his grave. I would call him Washing- 
ton, but the great Virginian held slaves. This man risked his em- 
pire rather than permit the slave-trade in the humblest village 
of his dominions. 

You think me a fanatic to-night, for you read history, not with 
your eyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty years hence, when 
Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of History will put Phocion for 
the Greek, and Brutus for the Roman, Hampden for England, 
Lafayette for France, choose Washington as the bright, consummate 
flower of our earlier civilization, and John Brown the hpe fruit 
of our noonday, then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will whte 
in the clear blue, above them all, the name of the soldier, the states- 
man, the martyr, TOUSSAINT UOUVERTURE. 

— ^Wbndell Phillips, Toussaint VOuoerture. 

Practise on the following selections for emphasis: 
Beecher's "Abraham Lincoln," page 76; Lincoln's "Get- 
tjrsburg Speech," page 50; Seward's "Irrepressible Con- 
flict," page 67; and Bryan's "Prince of Peace," page 448. 



Speech is simply a modified form of singing: the principal 
difference being in the fact that in singing the vowel sounds are 
prolonged and the intervals are short, whereas in speech the words 
are uttered in what may be called "staccato" tones, the vowels 
not being specially prolonged and the intervals between the words 
being more distinct. The fact that in singing we have a larger 
range of tones does not properly distinguish it from ordinary 
speech. In speech we have likewise a variation of tones, and even 
in ordinary conversation there is a difference of from three to 
six semi- tones, as I have found in my investigations, and in some 
persons the range is as high as one octave. 

— ^William Scheppegrbll, Popular Science Monthly. 

By pitch, as everyone knows, we mean the relative 
position of a vocal tone — as, high, medium, low, or any 
variation between. In public speech we apply it not only 
to a single utterance, as an exclamation or a monosyllable 
{Oh! or the) but to any group of syllables, words, and even 
sentences that may be spoken in a single tone. This dis- 
tinction it is important to keep in mind, for the efficient 
speaker not only changes the pitch of successive syllables 
(see Chapter VII, "Efficiency through Inflection")i but 
gives a different pitch to different parts, or word-groups, 
of successive sentences. It is this phase of the subject 
which we are considering in this chapter. 


Every Change in the Thought Demands a Change in the 


Whether the speaker follows the rule consdously, un- 
consciously, or subconsciously, this is the logical basis 
upon which all good voice variation is made, yet this law 
is violated more often than any other by public speakers. 
A criminal may disregard a law of the state without de- 
tection and punishment, but the speaker who violates this 
regulation suffers its penalty at once in his loss of effective- 
ness, while his innocent hearers must endiire the monotony 
— for monotony is not only a sin of the perpetrator, 
as we have shown, but a plague on the victims as well. 

Change of pitch is a stumbling block for almost all be- 
ginners, and for many experienced speakers also. This is 
especially true when the words of the speech have been 

If you wish to hear how pitch-monotony sounds, strike 
the same note on the piano over and over again. You have 
in yoiir speaking voice a range of pitch from high to low, 
with a great many shades between the extremes. With 
all these notes available there is no excuse for offending the 
ears and taste of your audience by continually using the 
one note. True, the reiteration of the same tone in music — 
as in pedal point on an organ composition — may be made 
the foundation of beauty, for the harmony weaving about 
that one basic tone produces a consistent, insistent quality 
not felt in pure variety of chord sequences. In like man- 
ner the intoning voice in a ritual may — ^though it rarely 
does — ^possess a solemn beauty. But the public speaker 


should shun the monotone as he would a pestilence. 
Continual Change of Pitch is Nature^s Highest Method 

In our search for the principles of efficiency we must con- 
tinually go back to nature. Listen — ^really listen — to the 
birds sing. Which of these feathe^red tribes are most 
pleasing in their vocal efforts: those whose voices, though 
sweet, have little or no range, or those that, like the canary, 
the lark, and the nightingale, not only possess a consider- 
able range but utter their notes in continual variety of 
combinations? Even a sweet-toned chirp, when reiterated 
without change, may grow maddening to the enforced 

The little child seldom speaks in a monotonous pitch. 
Observe the conversations of little folk that you hear on 
the street or in the home, and note the continual changes 
of pitch. The unconscious speech of most adults is like- 
wise full of pleasing variations. 

Imagine someone speaking the following, and consider if 
the effect would not be just about as indicated. Re- 
member, we are not now discussing the inflection of single 
words, but the general pitch in which phrases are spoken. 

(High pitch) "I'd like to leave for my vacation tomorrow, — 
(lower) still, I have so much to do. (Higher) Yet I suppose if 
I wait until I have time I'll never go." 

Repeat this, first in the pitches indicated, and then all 
in the one pitch, as many speakers would. Observe the 
difference in naturalness of effect. 

The following exercise should be spoken in a piirely 


conversational tone, with numerous changes of pitch. 
Practise it until yoiir delivery would cause a stranger 
in the next room to think you were discussing an actual 
incident with a friend, instead of delivering a memorized 
monologue. If you are in doubt about the effect you have 
secured, repeat it to a friend and ask him if it sounds like 
memorized words. If it does, it is wrong. 


Jack, I hear you've gone and done it. — ^Yes, I know; moet 
fellows wlU; went and tried it onoe myself, sir, though you see 
I'm single still. And you met her — did you tell me— down at 
Newport, last Jtdy, and resolved to ask the question at a soirfef 
So did I. 

I suppose you left the ball-room, with its music and its light; 
for they say love's flame is brightest in the darVnefw of the night. 
Well, you walked along together, overhead the starlit sky; and 
111 bet — old man, confess it — ^you were frightened. So was I. 

So you strolled along the terrace, saw the summer moonlight 
pour all its radiance on the waters, as they rippled on the shore, 
till at length you gathered courage, when you saw that none was 
nigh — did you draw her dose and tell her that you loved her? 
So did I. 

Well, I needn't ask you further, and I'm sure I wish you joy. 
Think 111 wander down and see you when you're married— eh, 
my boy? When the honeymoon is over and you're settled down, 
well try — ^What? the deuce you sayl Rejected — you rejected? 
So was I. — Anonymous. 

The necessity for changing pitch is so self-evident that 
it should be grasped and applied inunediatdy. However, 
it requires patient drill to free yourself from monotony 
of pitch. 

In natural conversation you think of an idea first, and 
then find words to express it. In memorized speeches 


you are liable to speak the words, and then think what they 
mean — and many speakers seem to trouble very little 
even about that. Is it any wonder that reversing the 
process should reverse the result? Get back to nature 
in your methods of expression. 

Read the following selection in a nonchalant manner, 
never pausing to think what the words really mean. Try 
it again, carefully studying the thought you have assimi- 
lated. Believe the idea, desire to express it effectively, 
and imagine an audience before you. Look them earnestly 
in the face and repeat this truth. If you follow directions, 
you will note that you have made many changes of pitch 
after several readings. 

It 18 not work that kills men; it is worry. Work is healthy; 
you can hardly put more upon a man than he can bear. Worry is 
rust upon the blade. It is not the revolution that destroys the 
machinery but the friction. — Henrt Wasd BsBcmsR. 

Change of Pitch Produces Emphasis 

This is a highly important statement. Variety in pitch 
maintains the hearer's interest, but one of the surest ways 
to compel attention — ^to secure unusual emphasis — ^is 
to change the pitch of your voice suddenly and in a marked 
d^^ree. A great contrast always arouses attention. White 
shows whiter against black; a cannon roars louder in the 
Sahara silence than in the Chicago hurly bmrly — ^these 
are simple illustrations of the power of contrast. 

"What is Congress going to do next? 

(High pitch) 

I do not know." 

(Low pitch) 


By such sudden change of pitch during a sermon Dr. 
Newell Dwight Hillis recently achieved great emphasis 
and suggested the gravity of the question he had raised. 

The forgoing order of pitch-change might be reversed 
with equally good effect, though with a slight change in 
seriousness — either method produces emphasis when used 
intelligently, that is, with a conmion-sense appreciation 
of the sort of emphasis to be attained. 

In attempting these contrasts of pitch it is important 
to avoid unpleasant extremes'. Most speakers pitch their 
voices too high. One of the secrets of Mr. Bryan's elo- 
quence is his low, bell-like voice. Shakespeare said that 
a soft, gentle, low voice was ^'an excellent thing in 
woman;" it is no less so in man, for a voice need not be 
blatant to be powerful, — and must not be, to be pleasing. 

In closing, let us emphasize anew the importance of 
using variety of pitch. You sing up and down the scale, 
first touching one note and then another above or below 
it. Do likewise in speaking. 

Thought and individual taste must generally be your 
guide as to where to use a low, a moderate, or a high pitch. 


1. Name two methods of destroying monotony and 
gaining force in speaking. 

2. Why is a continual change of pitch necessary in 

3. Notice your habitual tones in speaking. Are they 
too high to be pleasant? 

4. Do we express the following thoughts and emotions 


in a low or a high pitch? Which may be expressed in 
either high or low pitch? Excitement. Victory. Defeat. 
Sorrow. Love. Earnestness. Fear. 

5. How would you naturally vary the pitch in intro- 
ducing an explanatory or parenthetical expression like 
the following: 

He started — that is, he made preparations to start — on Septem- 
ber third. 

6. Speak the following lines with as marked variations 
in pitch as your interpretation of the sense may dictate. 
Try each line in two different wa}rs. Which, in each 
instance, is the more effective — and why? 

What have I to gain from you? Nothing. 

To engage our nation in such a compact would be an infamy. 

Note: In the foregoing sentence, experiment as towhefe the 
change in pitch would better be made. 

Once the flowers distilled their fragrance here, but now see 
the devastations of war. 

He had reckoned without one prime factor — his consdence. 

7. Make a diagram of a conversation you have heard, 
showing where high and low pitches were used. Were these 
changes in pitch advisable? Why or why not? 

8. Read the selections on pages 34, 35, 36, 37 and 
38^ pa3dng careful attention to the changes in pitch. 
Reread, substituting low pitch for high, and vice versa. 

SekcUans for Practise 

Note: In the following selections, those passages that 
may best be delivered in a moderate pitch are printed in 
ordinary (roman) type. Those which may be rendered 


in a high pitch — do not make the mistake of raising the 
voice too high — are printed in italics. Those which might 
well be spoken in a low pitch are printed in CAPITALS. 
These arrangements, however, are merely suggestive — 
we cannot make it strong enough that you must use your 
own judgment in interpreting a selection. Before doing 
so, however, it is well to practise these passages as they 
are marked. 

WEBSTER labor, say the critics. But every man who reads 
of the labor question knows that it means the movement of the 
men that earn their living with their hands; THAT ARE EM- 
PLOYED, AND PAID WAGES: are gartered under roofs of 
factories, sent out on farms, sent out on ships, gathered on the waUs. 
In popular acceptation, the working class means the men that 
work with their hands, for wages, so many hours a day, employed 
by great capitalists; that work for everybody else. Why do we 
move for this class? " Why," asks a critic, "donH you move FOR 
ARGUING THE MEXICAN CLAIMS, there is no need of any- 
body's moving for him. BECA USE, WHILE R UFUS CHOA TE 
ARGUMENT TO A JURY, there is no need of moving for him, or 
for the men that work with their brains, — that do highly disciplined 
and skilled labor, invent, and write books. The reason why the 
Labor movement confines itself to a single class is because that 
class of work DOES NOT GET PAID, does not get proteaion. 
MENTAL LABOR is adequately paid, and MORE THAN 
it can vary according to the supply and demand, 

IF A MAN FAILS AS A MINISTER, why, he becomes a rail- 
way conductor. IF THA T DOESN T SUIT HIM, he goes West, 
and becomes governor of a territory. AND IF HE FINDS HIM- 
he comes home, and gets to be a city editor. He varies his occupation 


as he pleases, and doesn't need protection. B UT THE GREA T 




THE GREA T RUTS OF BUSINESS,'-they are the men whose 

inadequate protection, whose unfair share of the general product, 

claims a movement in their behalf, 

— Wendell Phillips. 

ING FULL WELL THE COST— -yet we enlist, and we enlist 
and we know, too, its certain triumph, 

NOT RELUCTANTLY THEN, but eagerly, not with faint 
hearts B UT STRONG, do we now advance upon the enemies of 
the peopU. FOR THE CALL THAT COMES TO US is the 
call that came to our fathers. As they responded so shall we. 


shall never call retreat, 

His judgment seat, 


Our God is marching on," 

— Albert J. Bbvbridgb. 

Remember that two sentences, or two parts of the same 
sentence, which contain changes of thought, cannot pos- 
sibly be given effectively in the same key. Let us repeat, 
every big change of thought requires a big change of 
pitch. What the beginning student will think are big 
changes of pitch will be monotonously alike. Learn to 
speak some thoughts in a very high tone — others in a 
very, very low tone. DEVELOP RANGE, It is ahnost 
impossible to use too much of it. 


TORIC SOIL and my eyes to the knowledge of her beauty and her 
thrift. Here within touch of Plymouth Rock and Bunker Hill — 
WHERE WEBSTER THUNDERED and LongfeUaw sang, Emer- 
CRADLE OF AMERICAN LETTERS and almost of American 
liberty, I hasten to make the obeisance that every American owes 
New England when first he stands uncovered in her mighty pres- 
ence. Strange apparition! This stem and unique figtire — carved 
from the ocean and the wilderness — its majesty kindling and 
growing amid the storms of winter and of wars — tmtil at last 
the gloom was broken, ITS BEA UTY DISCLOSED IN THE 
SUNSHINE, and the heroic workers rested at its base — ^while 
startled kings and emperors gazed and marveled that from the 
rude touch of this handful cast on a bleak and tmknown shore 
should have come the embodied genius of human government 
God bless the memory of those immortal workers, and prosper 
the fortunes of their living sons — and perpetuate the inspiration 
of their handiwork 

Par to the South, Mr. President, separated from this section 
by a line — once defined in irrepressible difference, once traced in 
fratricidal Mood, AND NOW, THANK GOD, BUT A VANISH- 
ING SHADOW — lies the fairest and richest domain of this earth. 
It is the home of a brave and hospitable people. THERE IS 
yields to the husbandman every product of the temperate zone. 

There, by night the cotton whitens beneath the stars, and by day 
SHEAF. In the same field the clover steals the fragrance 
of the wind, and tobacco catches the quick aroma of the 
HAUSTLESS TREASURES: forests—^vast and primeval; and 
rivers that, tunMing or loitering, run wanton to the sea. Of the 
three essential items of all industries — cotton, iron and wood 
— ^that region has easy control. IN COTTON, a fixed monopoly — 
IN IRON, proven supremacy— IN TIMBER, the reserve supply 




oj the Republic. Prom this assured and permanent advantage, 
against which artificial conditions cannot much longer prevail, 
has grown an amazing system of industries. Not maintained 
by htmian contrivance of tariff or capital, afar off from the fullest 
and cheapest source of supply, but resting in divine assurance, 
within touch of field and mine and forest — not set amid costly 
farms from which competition has driven the farmer in despair, 
but amid cheap and sunny lands, rich with agriculture, to which 
neither season nor soil has set a limit — ^this system of industries 
is mounting to a splendor that shall dazzle and illumine the 
world. THA T, SIR^ is the picture and the promise of my home — A 
and yet but fit setting in its material excellence for the loyal and 
gentle quality of its citizenship. 

This hour Uttle needs the LOYALTY THAT IS LOYAL TO 
ONE SECTION and yet holds the other in enduring suspicion 
and estrangement. Give us the broad and perfect loyalty that loves 
and trusts GEORGIA alike with Massachusetts — ^that knows no 
SOUTH, no North, no EAST, no West, but endears with equal 
and patriotic love every foot of our soil, every State of our Union. 

TION impels every one of us to-night to lose in patriotic consecro^ 

LIBERTY/ The uplifting force of the American idea is under 
every throne on earth. France, Brazil— THESE ARE OUR 
VICTORIES. To redeem the earth from kingcraft and oppression 
God has sown in our soil the seed of His millennial harvest, and 
He will not lay the sickle to the ripening crop until His ftill and per- 
fect day has come. UR HISTOR Y, SIR, has been a constant and 
TOWN, all the way — ^aye, even from the hour when from the 
voiceless and traceless ocean a new world rose to the sight of the 
inspired sailor. As we approach the fourth centennial of that 
stupendous day — when the old world will come to marvel and 
to learn amid our gathered treasures — ^let us resolve to crown the 
miracles of our past with the spectacle of a Republic, compact, unit- 


the Lakes to the Gulf — the wounds of war healed in every heart 
as on every hill, serene and resplendent AT THE SUMMIT OF 
out the pcUh and making dear the way up which all the nations 
of the earth must come in God's appointed time/ 

— Henrt W. Grady, The Race Problem. 

. . . / WOULD CALL HIM NAPOLEON, but Napoleon 
made his way to empire over broken oaths and through a sea of blood. 
This man never broke his word. " No Retaliation " was his great 
motto and the rule of his life; AND THE LAST WORDS 
boy, you will one day go back to Santo Domingo; forget that France 
murdered your father." I WOULD CALL HIM CROMWELL, 
but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the state he founded went down 
with him into his grave. I WOULD CALL HIM WASHING- 
TON, but the great Virginian held slaves. THIS MA N RISKED 
HIS EMPIRE rather than permit the slave-trade in the humblest 
village of his dominions. 

history, not with your eyes, BUT WITH YOUR PREJUDICES, 
But £Lfty years hence, when Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of 
History will put PHOCION for ihe Greek, and BRUTUS for the 
Roman, HAMPDEN for England, LAFAYETTE for France, 
choose WASHINGTON as the bright, consummate flower of 
our EARLIER civUisation, AND JOHN BROWN the ripe fruU 
of our NOONDA Y, then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will 
write in the dear blue, above them all. the name of THR 

— ^Wbndbix Phillips. Toussaint rOuverture. 

Drill on the following selections for change of pitch: 
Beecher's "Abraham Lincoln," p. 76; Seward's "Ir- 
repressible Conflict," p. 67 ; Everett's " History of Liberty," 
p. 78; Grady's "The Race Problem," p. 36; and Bev- 
eridge's "Pass Prosperity Around," p. 470. 



Hear how he clears the points o' Faith 

Wi' rattlin' an' thtunpin'f 
Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, 

He's stampin' an' he's jumpin'. 

— ^Robert Burns, Holy Fair, 

The Latins have bequeathed to us a word that has no 
precise equivalent in our tongue, therefore we have ac- 
cepted it, body unchanged — ^it is the word iempoy and 
means raie of movemeni, as measured by the time consumed 
in executing that movement. 

Thus far its use has been largely limited to the vocal 
and musical arts, but it would not be surprising to hear 
tempo appUed to more concrete matters, for it perfectly 
illustrates the real meaning of the word to say that an 
ox-cart moves in slow tempo, an express train in a fast 
tempo. Our guns that fire six hundred times a minute, 
shoot at a fast tempo; the old muzzle loader that required 
three minutes to load, shot at a slow tempo. Every 
musician understands this principle: it requires longer 
to sing a half note than it does an eighth note. 

Now tempo is a tremendously important element in 
good platform work, for when a speaker delivers a whole 
address at very nearly the same rate of speed he is de- 
priving himself of one of his chief means of emphasis 
and power. The base-ball pitcher, the bowler in cricket, 


the tennis server, all know the value of change of pace — 
change of tempo — ^in delivering their ball, and so must the 
public speaker observe its power. 

Change of Tempo Lends Naturalness to the Delivery 

Naturalness, or at least seeming naturalness, as was 
explained in the chapter on ''Monotony," is greatly to be 
desired, and a continual change of tempo will go a long way 
towards establishing it. Mr. Howard Lindsay, Stage 
Manager for Miss Margaret Anglin, recently said to the 
present writer that change of pace was one of the most 
effective tools of the actor. While it must be admitted 
that the stilted mouthings of many actors indicate cloudy 
mirrors, still the public speaker would do well to study 
the actor's use of tempo. 

There is, however, a more fundamental and effective 
source at which to study naturalness — a trait which, once 
lost, is shy of recapture: that source is the common con- 
versation of any well-bred circle. This is the standard 
we strive to reach on both stage and platform — ^with cer- 
tain differences, of course, which will appear as we go on. 
If speaker and actor were to reproduce with absolute 
fidelity every variation of utterance — every whisper, 
grunt, pause, silence, and explosion — of conversation as we 
find it typically in every-day life, much of the interest 
would leave the pubUc utterance. Natiiralness in public 
address is something more than faithful reproduction of 
nature — ^it is the reproduction of those typical parts of 
nature's work which are truly representative of the whole. 



The realistic story-writer understands this in writing 
dialogue, and we must take it into account in seeking for 
naturalness through change of tempo. 

Suppose you speak the first of the following sentences 
in a slow tempo, the second quickly, observing how natural 
is the effect. Then speak both with the same rapidity and 
note the difference. 

I can't recall what I did with my knife. Oh, now I remember 
I gave it to Mary. 

We see here that a change of tempo often occurs in the 
same sentence — for tempo applies not only to single words, 
groups of words, and groups of sentences, but to the major 
parts of a public speech as well. 


I. In the following, speak the words '' long, long while" 
very slowly; the rest of the sentence is spoken in 
moderately rapid tempo. 

When you and I behind the Veil are past, 
Oh but the long, long while the world shall last, 
Which of our coming and departure heeds. 
As the seven seas should heed a pebble cast. 

Note: In the following selections the passages that 
should be given a fast tempo are in itaUcs; those that 
should be given in a slow tempo are in small capitals. 
Practise these selections, and then try others, changing 
from fast to slow tempo on different parts, carefully 
noting the effect. 

2. No MiRABEAU, Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell, no man 



about U—what I call A sincbkb man. I should say siNCBRmr, a 


a man in any way heroic. Not the sincerity that calls itself 
sincere. Ah no. That is a very poor matter indeed — ^A shallow, 
BRAGGART, CONSCIOUS sincerity, oftenest self-conceit mainly^ 
The GREAT man's sincerttt is of a kind he cannot speak of. 
Is NOT conscious of, — ^Thomas Carlyle. 

3. True worth is in being — not seeming — in doing each 
day that goes by some little good, not in dreaming of great 
THINGS to do by and by. For whatever men say in their blindness, 
and in spite of the follies of youth, there is nothing so kingly as 
KINDNESS, and nothing so royal as truth. — Anonymous. 

4. To get a natural effect, where would you use slow 
and where fast tempo in the following? 


See him there, cold and gray, 

Watch him as he tries to play; 

No, he doesn't know the way — 

He began to learn too late. 

She's a grim old hag, is Pate, 

For she let him have his pile. 

Smiling to herself the while, 

Knowing what the cost would be. 

When he'd found the Golden Key. 

Multimillionaire is he. 

Many times more rich than we; 

But at that I wouldn't trade 

With the bargain that he made. 

Came here many years ago, 

Not a person did he know; 

Had the money-htmger bad — 

Mad for money, piggish mad; 

Didn't let a joy divert him. 

Didn't let a sorrow hurt him, 

Let his friends and kin desert him. 

While he planned and plugged and hurried 


On his quest for gold and power. 

Every single wakeful hour 

With a money thought he'd dower; 

All the while as he grew older. 

And grew bolder, he grew colder. 

And he thought that some day 

He would take the time to play; 

But, say — ^he was wrong. 

Life's a song; 

In the spring 

Youth can sing and can fling; 

But joys wing 

When we're older. 

Like birds when it's colder. 

The roses were red as he went rushing by, 

And glorious tapestries htmg in the sky. 

And the clover was waving 

'Neath honey-bees' slaving; 

A bird over there 

Roundelayed a soft air; 

But the man couldn't spare 

Time for gathering flowers, 

Or resting in bowers. 

Or gazing at skies 

That gladdened the eyes. 

So he kept on and swept on 

Through mean, sordid years. 

Now he's up to his ears 

In the choicest of stocks. 

He owns endless blocks 

Of houses and shops. 

And the stream never stops 

Pouring into his banks. 

I suppose that he ranks 

Pretty near to the top. 

What I have wouldn't sop 

His ambition one tittle; 

And yet with my little 

I don't care to trade 


With the bargain he made. 

Jttst watch him to-day — 

See him trying to play. 

He's come back for blue skies, 

But they're in a new guise — 

Winter's here, all is gray, 

The birds are away, 

The meadows are brown, 

The leaves lie aground. 

And the gay brook that wound 

With a swirling and whirling 

Of waters, is furling 

Its bosom in ice. 

And he hasn't the price. 

With all of his gold, 

To buy what he sold. 

He knows now the cost 

Of the spring-time he lost. 

Of the flowers he tossed 

Prom his way, 

And, say, 

He'd pay 

Any price if the day 

Could be made not so gray. 

He can't play. 

— Herbert ICaufman. Used by permission 

of Everybody's MagaEtne. 

Change of Tempo Prevenls Monotony 

The canary in the cage before the window is adding to 
the beauty and charm of his singing by a continual change 
of tempo. If King Solomon had been an orator he undoubt- 
edly would have gathered wisdom from the song of the 
wild birds as well as from the bees. Imagine a song 
written with but quarter notes. Ima^e an auto with 
only one speed. 



1. Note the change of tempo mdicated in the following, 
and how it gives a pleasing variety. Read it aloud. (Fast 
tempo is indicated by italics, slow by small capitals.) 

And he thouglU that some day he would take the time to play; hul, 
say — ^HB WAS WKONG. life's a song; in the spring youth can 
SING and can fling; but joys wing when we're older, like 
THE BIRDS when it's colder. Tlte roses were red as he went rushing 
by, and glorious tapestries hung in the sky. 

2. Turn to "Fools Gold," on Page 42, and deliver it 
in an unvaried tempo: note how monotonous is the re- 
sult. This poem requires a great many changes of tempo, 
and is an excellent one for practise. 

3. Use the changes of tempo indicated in the following, 
noting how they prevent monotony. Where no change 
of tempo is indicated, use a moderate speed. Too much 
of variety would reaUy be a return to monotony. 


"A MOB KILLS THE WRONG MAN" wos flashed in a newspaper 
headline lately. The mob is an irresponsible, unthinking mass. 
// always destroys but never constructs. // criticises but never 


Utter a great truth and the mob will hate you. See how H 
condemned Dante to exile. Encounter the dangers of the unknown 
world for its benefit, and the mob will declare you crazy. // 
ridiculed COLUMBUS, and for discovering a new world GA VE 

Write a poem to thrill human hearts with pleasure, and the mob 
wnx allow you to go hungry: the blind homer begged bread 
through the streets. Invent a machine to save labor and the 
mob will declare you its emeny. Less than a hundred years ago 
a furious rabble smashed Tkimonier's invention, the sewing machine. 
Build a sTEAMsmp to carry merchandise and accelerate 


TRAVEL and the mob will call you a fool, a mob lined the shokbs 
OF THE Hudson River to laugh at the icAroEN attempt of 
"Pulton's Polly/' as they called his little steamboat, 

Emerson says: "A mob is a society of bodies voluntarily be- 
reaving themselves of reason and traversing its work. The mob 
is man voluntarily descended to the nature of the beast. Its 
fit hour of activity is night, rrs actions are insane, Uke ils 
whole constitution. It persecutes a principle — ^rr would whip a 
RIGHT. It would tar and feather justice by inflicting fire and out- 
rage upon the house and persons of those who have these." 

The mob spirit stalks abroad in our land today. Every 
week gives a fresh victim to its malignant cry for blood. There 
were 48 persons killed by mobs in the United States in 1913; M 
in 1912, and 71 in 1911. Among the 48 last year were a woman 
and a child. Two victims were proven innocent after their death. 

In 399 B. c. a demagog appealed to the popular mob to 
HAVE Socrates put to death and he was sentenced to the hemlock 
cup. Pourteen hundred tears afterward an enthusiast 
APPEALED TO THE POPULAR MOB and all Europe plunged into the 
Holy Land to kill and mangle the heathen. In the seventeenth 
century a demagog appealed to the ignorance of men and twenty 


FOR WITCHCRAFT. Two thousand years ago the mob yelled, 

'* RELEASE UNTO US BARA BB AS''— Am Barabbjls was A 


— From an Editorial by D. C. in *' Leslie's Weekly" by permission. 

Present-day business is as imlike old-time business as the 
OLD-TIME OX-CART is tmlikc the present-day locomotive. Invention 
has made the whole world over again. The railroad, telegraph, 
telephone have bound the people of modern nations into fam- 
ilies. To do the business of these closely knit millions in every 
modem country great business concerns came into being. 
What we call big business is the child of the economic progress 
OF MANKIND. So Warfare to destroy big business is foolish be- 
cause IT CAN NOT succeed and wicked because it ought not 
TO succeed. Warfare to destroy big business does not hurt big 
business, which always comes out on top, so much as it hurts 

OUT ON TOP. — A. J. Beveridge. 


Change of Tempo Produces Emphasis 

Any big change of tempo is emphatic and will catch the 
attention. You may scarcely be conscious that a passenger 
train is moving when it is fl3dng over the rails at ninety 
miles an hour, but if it slows down very suddenly to a ten- 
mile gait your attention will be drawn to it very decidedly. 
You may forget that you are listening to music as 3rou 
dine, but let the orchestra either increase or diminish its 
tempo in a very marked degree and your attention will 
be arrested at once. 

This same principle will procure emphasis in a speech. 
If you have a point that you want to bring home to your 
audience forcefully, make a sudden and great change of 
tempo, and they will be powerless to keep from pa3dng 
attention to that point Recentiy the present writer saw 
a play in which these lines were spoken: 

"I don't want you to forget what I said. I want you 
to remember it the longest day you — ^I don't care if you've 
got six guns." The part up to the dash was delivered in 
a very slow tempo, the remainder was flamed out at 
lightning speed, as the character who was spoken to drew 
a revolver. The effect was so emphatic that the lines 
are remembered six months afterwards, while most of 
the play has faded from memory. The student who 
has powers of observation will see this principle applied 
by all our best actors in their efforts to get emphasis 
where emphasis is due. But remember that the emotion 
in the matter must warrant the intensity in the manner, 
or the effect will be ridiculous. Too many public speakers 
are impressive over nothing. 


Thought rather than rules must govern you while 

practising change of pace. It is often a matter of no con- 
sequence which part of a sentence is spoken slowly and 
which is given in fast tempo. The main thing to be de- 
sired is the change itself. For example, in the selection, 
''The Mob," on page 46, note the last paragraph. Re- 
verse the instructions given, delivering everything that 
is marked for slow tempo, quickly; and everything that 
is marked for quick tempo, slowly. You will note that 
the force or meaning of the passage has not been destroyed. 
However, many passages cannot be changed to a slow 
tempo without destroying their force. Instances: The 
Patrick Henry speech on page no, and the following pas- 
sage from Whittier's "Barefoot Boy." 

O for boyhocxi's time of June, crowding years in one brief 
moon, when all things I heard or saw, me, their master, waited 
for. I was rich in flowers and trees, humming-birds and honey- 
bees; for my sport the squirrel played; plied the snouted mole 
his spade; for my taste the bladcberry cone purpled over hedge 
and stone; laughed the brook for my delight through the day 
and through the night, whispering at the garden wall, talked with 
me from fall to fall; mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond; mine 
the walnut slopes beyond; mine, on bending orchard trees, 
apples of Hesperides! Still, as my horizon grew, larger grew my 
riches, too ; all the world I saw or knew seemed a complex Chinese 
toy, fashioned for a barefoot boy. — ^J. G. WHrrnBR. 

Be careful in regulating yoiu: tempo not to get your 
movement too fast. This is a common fault with amateur 
speakers. Mrs. Siddons rule was, ''Take time." A hun- 
dred years ago there was used in medical circles a prepa- 
ration known as "the shot gim remedy;" it was a mix- 


tare of about fifty different ingredientSi and was given 
to the patient in the hope that at least one of them would 
prove efficacious! That seems a rather poor scheme for 
medical practicei but it is good to use ''shot gun" tempo 
for most speeches, as it gives a variety. Tempo, like diet, 
is best when mixed. 


I. Define tempo. 

3. What words come from the same root? 

3. What is meant by a change of tenqx)? 

4. What effects are gained by it? 

5. Name three methods of destroying monotony and 
gaining force in speaJdng. 

6. Note the changes of tempo in a conversation or 
q;)eech that you hear. Were they well made? Why? 

7. Read selections on pages 34, 35, 36, 37, and 38, 
paying careful attention to change of tempo. 

8. As a rule, excitement, joy, or intense anger take a 
fast tempo, while sorrow, and sentiments of great dignity 
or solemnity tend to a slow tempo. Try to deliver Lin- 
coln's Gettysburg speech (page 50), in a fast tempo, or 
Patrick Henry's speech (page no), in a slow tempo, and 
note how ridiculous the effect will be. 

Practise the following selections, noting carefully 
where the tempo may be changed to advantage. 
Experiment, making numerous changes. Which one do 
you like best? 



Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon 
this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated 
to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are 
engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation— or any 
nation so conceived and so dedicated — can long endure. 

We are met on a great battiefield of that war. We are met to 
dedicate a portion of it as the final resting-place of those who have 
given their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether 
fitting and proper that we should do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot conse- 
crate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and 
dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our 
power to add or to detract. The world will very littie note nor 
long remember what we say here; but it can never forget what 
they did here. 

It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the un- 
finished work they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather 
for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before 
us: that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to 
that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of de- 
votion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not 
have died in vain; that the nation shall, under God, have a new 
birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the 
people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 

— ^Abraham Lincoln. 


(This deliberative oration was delivered by Senator Thurston in the United 
States Senate on March 24, 1808. It is recorded in full in the Congreanonal 
Record of that date. Mrs. Thurston died in Cuba. As a dying request she 
urged her husband, who was investigating a£Fairs in the island, to do his utmost 
to induce the United States to intervene — whence this oration.] 

Mr. President, I am here by command of sUent lips to speak 
once and for all upon the Cuban situation. I shall endeavor to 
be honest, conservative, and just. I have no purpose to stir 
the public passion to any action not necessary and imperative 
to meet the duties and necessities of American responsibility. 


Christian homamty, and national honor. I would ahirk this task 
if I could, but I dare not. I cannot satisfy my conscience except 
by speaking, and speaking now. 

I went to Cuba finnly believing that the condition of affairs 
there had been greatiy exaggerated by the press, and my own 
efforts were directed in the first instance to the attempted ex- 
posure of these supposed exaggerations. There has undoubtedly 
been much sensationalism in the journalism of the time, but as 
to the condition of affairs in Cuba, there has been no exaggera- 
tion, because exaggeration has been impossible. 

Under the inhtunan policy of Weyler not less than four hundred 
thousand self-supporting, simple, peaceable, defenseless country 
people were driven from their homes in the agricultural portions 
of the Spanish provinces to the cities, and imprisoned upon the 
barren waste outside the residence portions of these cities and 
within the lines of intrenchment established a little way beyond. 
Their humble homes were burned, their fields laid waste, their 
implements of husbandry destroyed, their live stock and food 
supplies for the most part confiscated. Most of the people were 
old men, women, and children. They were thus placed in hope- 
less imprisonment, without shelter or food. There was no work 
for them in the cities to which they were driven. They were left 
with nothing to depend upon except the scanty charity of the 
inhabitants of the cities and with slow starvation their inevit- 
able fate. . . . 

The pictures in the American newspapers of the starving recon- 
centrados are true. They can all be duplicated by the thousands. 
I never before saw, and please God I may never again see, so 
deplorable a sight as the reconcentrados in the suburbs of Ma- 
tanzas. I can never f oi^get to my dymg day the hopeless anguish 
in their despairing eyes. Huddled about their little bark huts, 
they raised no voice of appeal to us for alms as we went among 
them. • • • 

Men, women, and children stand silent, famishing with hunger. 
Their only appeal comes from their sad eyes, through which one 
looks as through an open window into their agonizing souls. 

The government of Spain has not appropriated and will not 
appropriate one dollar to save these people. They are now be- 
ing attended and nursed and administered to by the charity of 


the United States. Think of the spectacle ! We are feeding these 
citizens of Spain; we are nursing their sick; we are saving such 
as can be saved, and yet there are those who still say it is right 
for us to send food, but we must keep hands off. I say that the 
time has come when muskets ought to go with the food. 

We asked the governor if he knew of any relief for these 
people except through the charity of the United States. He did 
not. We asked him, "When do you think the time will come 
that these people can be placed in a position of self-support?" 
He replied to us, with deep feeling, "Only the good God or the 
great government of the United States will answer that question." 
I hope and believe that the good God by the great government 
of the United States will answer that question. 

I shall refer to these horrible things no further. They are there. 
God pity me, I have seen them; they will remain in my mind 
forever — and this is almost the twentieth century. Christ died 
nineteen htmdred years ago, and Spain is a Christian nation. 
She has set up more crosses in more lands, beneath more skies, 
and under them has butchered more people than all the other 
nations of the earth combined. Europe may tolerate her ezia- 
tenoe as long as the people of the Old World wish. God grant 
that before another Christmas morning the last vestige of Spanish 
tyranny and oppression will have vanished from the Western 
Hemi^here! • • 

The time for action has come. No greater reason for it can 
exist to-morrow than exists to-day. Every hour's delay only 
adds another chapter to the awful story of misery and death. 
Only one power can intervene — ^the United States of America. 
Ours is the one great nation in the world, the mother of American 
republics. She holds a position of trust and responsibility toward 
the peoples and affairs of the whole Western Hemisphere. It 
was her glorious example which inspired the patriots of Cuba 
to raise the flag of liberty in her eternal hills. We cannot refuae 
to accept this responsibility which the God of the universe has 
placed upon us as the one great power in the New World. We 
must act! What shall our action be? 

Against the intervention of the United States in this holy 
cause there is but one voice of dissent; that voice is the votoe 
d the money-changers. They fear warl Not hecaxae of any 


Christian or ennobling sentiment against war and in favor of 
peace, but because they fear that a declaration of war, or the 
intervention which might result in war, would have a depressing 
effect upon the stock market. Let them gg. They do not repre- 
sent American sentiment; they do not represent American 
patriotism. Let them take their chances as they can. Their 
weal or woe is of but little importance to the liberty-loving 
people of the United States. They will not do the fighting; their 
blood will not flow; they will keep on dealing in options on human 
life. Let the men whose loyalty is to the dollar stand aside while 
the men whose loyalty is to the flag come to the front. 

Mr. President, there is only one action possible, if any is 
taken; that is, intervention for the independence of the island. 
But we cannot intervene and save Cuba without the exercise 
of force, and force means war; war means blood. The lowly 
Nazarene on the shores of Galilee preached the divine doctrine 
of love, "Peace on earth, good will toward men." Not peace on 
earth at the expense of liberty and htunanity. Not good will 
toward men who despoil, enslave, degrade, and starve to death 
their fellow-men. I believe in the doctrine of Christ. I believe 
in the doctrine of peace; but, Mr. President, men must have 
liberty before there can come abiding peace. 

Intervention means force. Force means war. War means 
blood. But it will be God's force. When has a battle for hu- 
manity and liberty ever been won except by force? What barri- 
cade of wrong, injustice, and oppression has ever been carried 
except by force? 

Force compelled the signature of unwilling royalty to the great 
Magna Charta; force put life into the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence and made effective the Emancipation Proclamation; force 
beat with naked hands upon the iron gateway of the Bastile 
and made reprisal in one awful hour for centuries of kingly crime; 
force waved the flag of revolution over Btmker Hill and marked 
the snows of Valley Forge with blood-stained feet; force held 
the broken line of Shiloh, climbed the flame-swept hill at Chat- 
tanooga, and stormed the clouds on Lookout Heights; force 
marched with Sherman to the sea, rode with Sheridan in the 
valley of the Shenandoah, and gave Grant victory at Appomat- 
tox; force saved the Union, kept the stars in the fl^, made 



niggers" men. The time for God's force has come again. Let 
the impassioned lips of American patriots once more take up the 
song: — 

"In the beauty of the liliee, Christ w»a bom aeroas the tea. 
With a dory in His boaom that tnuisfiguies srou and me; 
As He died to make men holy* let ns die to make men free. 
While God is marohing on." 

Others may hesitate, others may procrastinate, others may 
plead for further diplomatic negotiation, which means delay; 
but for me, I am ready to act now, and for my action I am ready 
to answer to my consdenoe, my country, and my God. 

— ^Jambs Mbllbn Thurston. 



The true btisiness of the literary artist is to plait or weave his 
meaning, involving it around itself; so that each sentenoe, by 
successive phrases, shall first come into a kind of knot, and then, 
after a moment of suspended meaning, solve and clear itself. 

— GsbRGE Saintsbury, on English Prose 
Style, in Miscellaneous Essays, 

. . . pause . . . has a distinctive value, expressed in 
silence; in other words, while the voice is waiting, the music 
of the movement is going on ... To manage it, with its 
delicacies and compensations, requires that same fineness of ear 
on which we must depend for all faultless prose rhythm. When 
there is no compensation, when the pause is inadvertent . . . 
there is a sense of jolting and lack, as if some pin or fastening had 
fallen out. 

— John Franklin Genung, The Working 
Principles of Rhetoric. 

Pause, in public speech, is not mere silence — ^it is 
silence made designedly eloquent. 

When a man says: ''I-uh-it is with profound-ah-pleas- 
ure that-er-I have been permitted to speak to you tonight 
and-uh-uh-I should say-er" — ^that is not pausing; that is 
stumbling. It is conceivable that a speaker may be effec- 
tive in spite of stumbling — but never because of it. 

On the other hand, one of the most important means 
of developing power in public speaking is to pause either 
before or after, or both before and after, an important 
word or phrase. No one who would be a forceful speaker 


can afford to neglect this principle — one of the most 
significant that has ever been inferred from listening to 
great orators. Study this potential device until you have 
absorbed and assimilated it. 

It would seem that this principle of rhetorical pause 
ought to be easily grasped and applied, but a long ex- 
perience in training both college men and maturer speakers 
has demonstrated that the device is no more readily under- 
stood by the average man when it is first explained to him 
than if it were spoken in Hindoostani. Perhaps this is 
because we do not eagerly devour the fruit of experience 
when it is impressively set before us on the platter of 
authority; we like to pluck fruit for ourselves — ^it not 
only tastes better, but we never foiget that tree! For- 
tunately, this is no difficult task, in this instance, for the 
trees stand thick all about us. 

One man is pleading the cause of another: 

"This man, my friends, has made this wonderftd sacrifice — 
for you and me." 

Did not the pause surprisingly enhance the power of 
this statement? See how he gathered up reserve force 
and impressiveness to deliver the words "for you and me." 
Repeat this passage without making a pause. Did it lose 
in effectiveness? 

Naturally enough, during a premeditated pause of this 
kind the mind of the speaker is concentrated on the 
thought to which he is about to give expression. He will 
not dare to allow his thoughts to wander for an instant — ^he 
will rather supremely center his thought and his emotion 


upon the sacrifice whose service, sweetness and divinity 
he is enforcing by his appeal. 

Conceniralian, then, is the big word here — ^no pause 
without it can perfectly hit the mark. 

Efficient pausing accomplishes one or all of four results: 

J. Pause Enables the Mind of the Speaker to Gather His 
Forces Before Delivering the Final Volley 

It is often dangerous to rush into battle without pausing 
for preparation or waiting for recruits. Consider Ctister's 
massacre as an instance. 

You can light a match by holding it beneath a lens and 
concentrating the sim's rays. You would not expect the 
match to flame if you jerked the lens back and forth 
quickly. Pause, and the lens gathers the heat. Your 
thoughts will not set fire to the minds of your hearers un- 
less you pause to gather the force that comes by a second 
or two of concentration. Maple trees and gas wells are 
rarely tapped continually; when a stronger flow is wanted, 
a pause is made, nature has time to gather her reserve 
forces, and when the tree or the well is reopened, a 
stronger flow is the result. 

Use the same common sense with your mind. If you 
would make a thought particularly effective, pause just 
before its utterance, concentrate your mind-energies, and 
then give it expression with renewed vigor. Carlyle was 
right: ''Speak not, I passionately entreat thee, till thy 
thought has silently matured itself. Out of silence comes 
thy strength. Speech is silvern, Silence is golden; Speech 
is human, Silence is divine." 


Silence has been called the father of speech. It should 
be. Too many of our public speeches have no fathers. 
They ramble along without pause or break. like Tenny- 
son's brook, they run on forever. Listen to little childreo, 
the policeman on the comer, the family conversation 
aroimd the table, and see how many pauses they naturally 
use, for they are imconsdous of effects. When we get 
before an audience, we throw most of our natural methods 
of expression to the wind, and strive after artificial effects. 
Get back to the methods of nature — ^and pause. 

2. Pause Prepares the Mind of the Auditor to Receive 

Your Message 

Herbert Spencer said that all the universe is in motion. 
So it is — and all perfect motion is rhythm. Part of rhythm 
is rest. Rest follows activity all through nature. In- 
stances: day and night; spring — summer — autumn — 
winter; a period of rest between breaths; an instant of 
complete rest between heart beats. Pause, and give the 
attention-powers of your audience a rest. What you say 
after such a silence will then have a great deal more effect. 

When your coimtry cousins come to town, the noise 
of a passing car will awaken them, though it seldom affects 
a seasoned dty dweller. By the continual passing of cars 
his attention-power has become deadened. In one who 
visits the dty but seldom, attention-value is insistent. 
To him the noise comes after a long pause; hence its 
power. To you, dweller in the dty, there is no pause; 
hence the low attention-value. After riding on a train 


several hours you will become so accustomed to its roar 
that it will lose its attention-value, unless the train should 
stop for a while and start again. If you attempt to listen 
to a dock-tick that is so far away that you can barely 
hear it, you will find that at times you are unable to dis- 
tinguish it, but in a few moments the soimd becomes dis- 
tinct again. Your mind will pause for rest whether you 
desire it to do so or not. 

The attention of yom: audience will act in quite the 
same way. Recognize this law and prepare for it — ^by 
pausing. Let it be repeated: the thought that follows a 
pause is much more dynamic than if no pause had oc- 
curred. What is said to you of a night will not have the 
same effect on your mind as if it had been uttered in the 
morning when your attention had been lately refreshed by 
the pause of sleep. We are told on the first page of the 
Bible that even the Creative Energy of God rested on the 
"seventh day." You may be sure, then, that the frail 
finite mind of your audience will likewise demand rest. 
Observe nature, study her laws, and obey them in your 

5. Pause Creates Effective Suspense 

Suspense is responsible for a great share of our interest 
in life; it will be the same with your speech. A play or a 
novel is often robbed of much of its interest if you know 
the plot beforehand. We like to keep guessing as to the 
outcome. The ability to create suspense is part of wo- 
man's power to hold the other sex. The drcus acrobat 
employs this prindple when he fails purposely in several 


attempts to perfonn a feat, and then achieves it. Even 
the deliberate manner in which he arranges the pre- 
liminaries increases our expectation — ^we like to be kept 
waiting. In the last act of the play, " Polly of the Circus," 
there is a circus scene in which a little dog turns a backward 
somersault on the back of a running pony. On nights 
when he hesitated and had to be coaxed and worked with 
a long time before he would perform his feat he got a great 
deal more applause than when he did his trick at once. 
We not only like to wait but we appreciate what we wait 
for. If fish bite too readily the sport soon ceases to be 
a sport. 

It is this same principle of suspense that holds you in a 
Sherlock Holmes story — you wait to see how the mystery 
is solved, and if it is solved too soon you throw down the 
tale unfinished. Wilkie Collins' receipt for fiction writing 
well applies to public speech : " Make 'em laugh ; make 'em 
weep; make 'em wait." Above all else make them wait; 
if they will not do that you may be sure they wiU neither 
laugh nor weep. 

Thus pause is a valuable instrument in the hands of a 
trained speaker to arouse and maintain suspense. We once 
heard Mr. Bryan say in a speech: "It was my privilege 
to hear" — ^and he paused, while the audience wondered 
for a second whom it was his privilege to hear — "the 
great evangelist" — and he paused again; we knew a little 
more about the man he had heard, but still wondered to 
which evangelist he referred; and then he concluded: 
"Dwight L. Moody." Mr. Bryan paused slightly again 
and continued: "I came to regard him" — ^here he paused 


again and held the audience in a brief moment of suspense 
as to how he had r^arded Mr. Moody, then continued — 
''as the greatest preacher of his day." Let the dashes 
illustrate pauses and we have the following: 

"It was my privilege to hear — ^the great evangelist — Dwight 
L. Mocxiy. — I came to i^^ard him — as the greatest preacher of 
his day." 

The unskilled speaker would have rattled this off with 
neither pause nor suspense, and the sentences would have 
fallen flat upon the audience. It is precisely the applica- 
tion of these small things that makes much of the difference 
between the successful and the imsuccessful speaker. 

4. Pausing After An ImportatU Idea Gives U Time to 


Any Missouri farmer will tell you that a rain that falls 
too fast will run off into the creeks and do the crops but 
little good. A story is told of a coimtry deacon praying 
for rain in this manner: ''Lord, don't send us any chimk 
floater. Just give us a good old drizzle-drazzle." A 
speech, like a rain, will not do anybody much good if it 
comes too fast to soak in. The farmer's wife follows this 
same principle in doing her washing when she puts the 
clothes in water — and pauses for several hours that the 
water may soak in. The physician puts cocaine on your 
turbinates — and pauses to let it take hold before he re- 
moves them. Why do we use this principle everywhere 
except in the conmiunication of ideas? If you have given 
the audience a big idea, pause for a second or two and let 


them turn it over. See what effect it has. After the smoke 
dears away you may have to fire another 14-inch shell on 
the same subject before you demolish the citadel of error 
that you are trying to destroy. Take time. Don't let 
your speech resemble those tourists who try "to do" 
New York in a day. They spend fifteen minutes looking 
at the masterpieces in the Metropolitan Museiun of Arts, 
ten minutes in the Museiun of Natural History, take a 
peep into the Aquarium, hurry across the Brooklyn 
Bridge, rush up to the Zoo, and back by Grant's Tomb — 
and call that "Seeing New York." If you hasten by your 
important points without pausing, your audience will 
have just about as adequate an idea of what you have 
tried to convey. 

Take time, you have just as much of it as our richest 
multimillionaire. Your audience will wait for you. It is 
a sign of smallness to hurry. The great redwood trees of 
California had burst through the soil five hundred years 
before Socrates drank his cup of hemlock poison, and are 
only in their prime today. Nature shames us with our 
petty haste. Silence is one of the most eloquent things in 
the world. Master it, and use it through pause. 

In the following selections dashes have been inserted 
where pauses may be used effectively. Naturally, you 
may omit some of these and insert others without going 
wrong — one speaker would interpret a passage in one 
way, one in another; it is largely a matter of personal pref- 
erence. A dozen great actors have played Hamlet well, 
and yet each has played the part differently. Whidi 


comes the nearest to perfection is a question of opinion. 
You will succeed best by daring to follow your own course 
— ^if you are individual enough to blaze an original trail. 

A moment's halt — a momentary taste of being from the well 
amid the waste — and lo! the phantom caravan has reached — 
the nothing it set out from — Oh make haste! 

The worldly hope men set their hearts upon — ^tums ashes — 
or it prospers; — and anon like snow upon the desert's dusty face — 
lighting a little hour or two — is gone. 

The bird of time has but a little way to flutter, — and the bird 
is on the wing. 

You will note that the pimctuation marks have nothing 
to do with the pausing. You may nm by a period ver}^ 
quickly and make a long pause where there is no kind of 
punctuation. Thought is greater than punctuation. It 
must guide you in your pauses. 

A book of verses underneath the bough, — ^a jug of wine, a 
loaf of bread — and thou beside me singing in the wilderness — 
Oh — ^wildemess were paradise enow. 

You must not confuse the pause for emphasis with the 
natural pauses that come through taking breath and 
phrasing. For example, note the pauses indicated in 
this selection from Byron: 

But huski — harki — that deep sotmd breaks in once more, 
And nearer! — clearer! — deadlier than before. 
Arm, akm! — it is — it is the camion's opening roar! 

It is not necessary to dwell at length upon these obvious 
distinctions. You will observe that in natural conversa- 
tion our words are gathered into clusters or phrases, and 


we often pause tx> take breath between them. So in public 
speech, breathe naturally and do not talk until you must 
gasp for breath; nor until the audience is equally winded. 

A serious word of caution must here be uttered: do not 
overwork the pause. To do so will make your speech 
heavy and stilted. And do not think that pause can trans- 
mute conunonplace thoughts into great and dignified 
utterance. A grand manner combined with insignificant 
ideas is like harnessing a Hambletonian with an ass. 
You remember the fardcal old school declamation, '^A 
Midnight Murder," that proceeded in grandiose man- 
ner to a thrilling climax, and ended — "and relentlessly 
murdered — a mosquito!" 

The pause, dramatically handled, always drew a laugh 
from the tolerant hearers. This is all very well in farce, 
but such anti-climax becomes painful when the speaker 
falls from the sublime to the ridiculous quite unintention- 
ally. The pause, to be effective in some other manner than 
in that of the boomerang, must precede or follow a thought 
that is really worth while, or at least an idea whose bearing 
upon the rest of the speech is important. 

WiUiam Pittenger relates in his volume, "Extem|>ore 
Speech," an instance of the imconsdously farcical use of 
the pause by a really great American statesman and orator. 
"He had visited Niagara Falls and was to make an oration 
at Buffalo the same day, but, unfortunately, he sat too 
long over the wine after dinner. When he arose to speak, 
the oratorical instinct struggled with difficulties, as he 
declared, ' Gentlemen, I have been to look upon your mag— 
mag-magnificent cataract, one himdred-and forty-seven 


-feet high ! Gentlemen, Greece and Rome in their pahniest 
days never had a cataract one hundred-and forty-seven— 
feet high!'" 


1. Name four methods for destroying monotony and 
gaining power in speaking. 

2. What are the four special effects of pause? 

3. Note the pauses in a conversation, play, or speech. 
Were they the best that could have been used? Illustrate. 

4. Read aloud selections on pages 50-54, pa3dng 
special attention to pause. 

5. Read the following without making any pauses. 
Reread correctly and note the difference: 

Soon thei night will pass; and when, of the Sentinel on the ram- 
parts of Liberty the anxious ask: | ''Watchman, what of the 
night?" his answer will be | "Lo, the mom appeareth." 

Knowing the price we must pay, | the sacrifice | we must 
make, | the burdens | we must carry, | the assaults | we must en- 
dure, I knowing full well the cost, | yet we enlist, and we enlist | for 
the war. | For we know the justice of our cause, | and we know, 
too, its certain triumph. | 

Not reluctantly, then, | but eagerly, | not with faint hearts, | but 
strong, do we now advance upon the enemies of the people. | For 
the call that comes to us is the caU that came to our fathers. | As 
they responded, so shall we. 

"He hath sounded forth a trumpet | that shall never 

call retreat. 
He is sifting out the hearts of men | before His judgment 

Oh, be swift | our souls to answer Him, | be jubilant 
our feet. 

Our God I is marching on." 
— ^Albert J. BEVBRmcE, Prom his speuh as temporary chair- 
man of Progressive National Cowoeniion^ Chicago, 191$. 


6. Bring out the contrasting ideas in the following by 
using the pause: 

Contrast now the drcamstanoes of your life and mine, gently 
and with temper, .Aschines; and then ask these people whose 
fortune they would each of them prefer. You taught reading, 
I went to school: you performed initiations, I receiyed them: 
you danced in the chorus, I furnished it: you were assembly- 
clerk, I was a speaker: you acted third parts, I heard you: you 
broke down, and I hissed: you have worked as a statesman for 
the enemy, I for my country. I pass by the rest; but this veiy 
day I am on my probation for a crown, and am acknowledged 
to be innocent of all offence; while you are already judged to be 
a pettifogger, and the question is, whether you shall continue 
that trade, or at once be silenced by not getting a fifth part of 
the votes. A happy fortune, do you see, you have enjoyed, that 
you should denounce mine as miserable! — Demosthbnbs. 

7. After careful study and practice, mark the pauses 
in the following: 

The past rises before me like a dream. Again we are in the 
great struggle for national life. We hear the sounds of prepara- 
tion — ^the music of the boisterous drums, the silver voices of 
heroic bugles. We see thousands of assemblages, and hear the 
appeals of orators; we see the pale cheeks of women and the 
flushed faces of men; and in those assemblages we see all the 
dead whose dust we have covered with flowers. We lose sight 
of them no more. We are with them when they enlist in the great 
army of freedom. We see them part from those they love. Some 
are walking for the last time in quiet woody places with the maidens 
they adore. We hear the whisperings and the sweet vows of 
eternal love as they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending 
over cradles, kissing babies that are asleep. Some are receiving 
the blessings of old men. Some are parting from those who hold 
them and press them to their hearts again and again, and say 
nothing; and some are talking with wives, and endeavoring with 
brave words spoken in the old tones to drive from their hearts the 
awful fear. We see them part. We see the wife standing in the 


door, with the babe in her arma — standing in the sunlight sobbing; 

at the turn of the road a hand waves — she answers by holding 

high in her loving hands the child. He is gone — and forever. 

— ^RoBBRT J. Ingbrsoll, to the Soldiers of Indianapolis, 

8. Where would you pause in the foUowing selections? 
Try pausing in difiFerent places and note the effect it gives. 

The moving finger writes; and having writ moves on: nor 
all your piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, 
nor all your tears wash out a word of it. 

The history of womankind is a story of abuse. For ages men 
beat, sold, and abused their wives and daughters like cattle. The 
Spartan mother that gave birth to one of her own sex disgraced 
herself; the girl babies were often deserted in the mountains to 
starve; China bound and deformed their feet; Turkey veiled 
their faces; America denied them equal educational advantages 
with men. Most of the world still refuses them the right to par- 
ticipate in the government and ever3rwhere women bear the 
brunt of an unequal standard of morality. 

But the women are on the march. They are walking upward 
to the sunlit plains where the thinking people rule. China 
has ceased binding their feet. In the shadow of the Harem 
Turkey has opened a school for girls. America has given the 
women equal educational advantages, and America, we believe, 
will enfranchise them. 

We can do little to help and not much to hinder this great 
movement. The thinking people have put their O. K. upon it. 
It is moving forward to its goal just as surely as this old earth 
is swinging from the grip of winter toward the spring's blossoms 
and the summer's harvest.^ 

9. Read aloud the following address, paying careful 
attention to pause wherever the emphasis may thereby 
be heightened. 


... At last, the Republican'party has appeared. It avows, now, 

iFrom an editorial by D. C. in Le$M9 Weekly, June 4. 1014. Uaed by 


as the Republican party of 1800 did, in one word, its faith and 
its works, "Eqtial and exact justice to all men." Even when it 
first entered the field, only half organized, it struck a blow which 
only just failed to secure complete and tritunphant victory. 
In this, its second campaign, it has already won advantages 
which render that triumph now both easy and certain. The 
secret of its assured success lies in that very characteristic which, 
in the mouth of scofiEers, constitutes its great and lasting imbecil- 
ity and reproach. It lies in the fact that it is a party of one idea; 
but that is a noble one — an idea that fills and expands all gen- 
erous souls; the idea of equality of all men before human tri- 
bunals and human laws, as they all are equal before the Divine 
tribtmal and Divine laws. 

I know, and you know, that a revolution has begun. I know, 
and all the world knows, that revolutions never go backward. 
Twenty senators and a hundred representatives proclaim boldly 
in Congress to-day sentiments and opinions and principles of 
freedom which hardly so many men, even in this free State, 
dared to utter in their own homes twenty years ago. While the 
government of the United States, under the conduct of the Demo- 
cratic party, has been aU that time surrendering one plain and 
castle after another to slavery, the people of the United States 
have been no less steadily and perseveringly gathering together 
the forces with which to recover back again all the fields and aU 
the castles which have been lost, and to confound and overthrow, 
by one decisive blow, the betrayers of the Constitution and free- 
dom forever. — ^W. H. Seward. 



How soft the music of those village bells, 
Falling at intervals upon the ear 
In cadence sweet; now dying all away, 
Now pealing loud again, and louder still. 
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on! 
With easy force it opens all the cells 
Where Memory slept. 

— ^William Cowper, The Task. 

Herbert Spencer remarked that "Cadence" — ^by which 
he meant the modulation of the tones of the voice in 
speaking — "is the running commentary of the emotions 
upon the propositions of the intellect." How true this is 
will appear when we reflect that the little upward and 
downward shadings of the voice tell more truly what we 
mean than our words. The expressiveness of language 
is literally multiplied by this subtle power to shade the 
vocal toneSy and this voice-shading we call inflection. 

The change of pitch within a word is even more im- 
portant, because more delicate, than the change of pitch 
from phrase to phrase. Indeed, one cannot be practised 
without the other. The bare words are only so many 
bricks — ^inflection will make of them a pavement, a garage, 
or a cathedral. It is the power of inflection to change the 
meaning of words that gave birth to the old saying: "It 
is not so much what you say, as how you say it." 

Mrs. Jameson, the Shakespearean commentator, has 


given us a penetrating example of the effect of inflection: 
''In her impersonation of the part of Lady Macbeth, Mrs. 
Siddons adopted successively three different intonations 
in giving the words 'We fail.' At first a quick contemp- 
tuous interrogation — 'We fail?' Afterwards, with the 
note of admiration — 'We fail/ an accent of indignant 
astonishment la3dng the principal emphasb on the word 
'we' — 'we fail. ' Lastly, she fixed on what I am convinced 
is the true reading — We fail — ^with the simple period, 
modulating the voice to' a deep, low, resolute tone which 
settles the issue at once as though she had said: 'If we 
fan, why then we fail, and all is over.' " 

This most expressive element of our speech is the last 
to be mastered in attaining to naturalness in speaking a 
foreign language, and its correct use is the main element in 
a natural, flexible utterance of our native tongue. Without 
varied inflections speech becomes wooden and monotonous. 
There are but two kinds of inflection, the rising and the 
falling, yet these two may be so shaded or so combined 
that they are capable of producing as many varieties of 
modulation as may be illustrated by either one or two 
lines, straight or curved, thus: 

Sharp rising y y 

Long rising ^ ^ ^^ 


Long falling 

Sharp falling ^\ *^ 

Sharp rising and falling 

Sharp falling and rising 



These may be varied indefinitely, and serve merely to 
illustrate what wide varieties of combination may be 
effected by these two simple inflections of the voice. 

It is impossible to tabulate the various inflections which 
serve to express various shades of thought and feeling. 
A few suggestions are offered here, together with abimdant 
exercises for practise, but the only real way to master in- 
flection is to observe, experiment, and practise. 

For example, take the conmion sentence, ''Oh, he's all 
right." Note how a rising inflection may be made to ex- 
press faint praise, or polite doubt, or uncertainty of 
opinion. Then note how the same words, spoken with a 
generally falling inflection may denote certainty, or good- 
natured approval, or enthusiastic praise, and so on. 

In general, then, we find that a bending upward of the 
voice will suggest doubt and imcertainty, while a decided 
falling inflection will suggest that you are certain of 
your ground. 

Students dislike to be told that their speeches are ''not 
so bad," spoken with a rising inflection. To enunciate 
these words with a long falling inflection would indorse 
the speech rather heartily. 

Say good-bye to an imaginary person whom you expect 
to see again tomorrow; then to a dear friend you never 
expect to meet again. Note the difference in inflection. 

"I have had a delightful time," when spoken at the 
termination of a formal tea by a frivolous woman takes 
altogether different inflection than the same words spoken 
between lovers who have enjoyed themselves. Mimic the 
two characters in repeating this and observe the difference. 


Note how light and short the inflections are in the follow- 
ing brief quotation from "Anthony the Absolute," by 

Samuel Mervin. 

At Sea— March esth. 

This evenmg I told Sir Robert What's His Name he was a f ooL 

I was qtiite right in this. He is. 

Every evening since the ship left Vancouver he has presided 
over the round table in the middle of the smoking-room. There 
he sips his coffee and liqueur, and holds forth on every subject 
known to the mind of man. Each subject is kis subject. He 
is an elderly person, with a bad face and a drooping left eyelid. 

They tell me that he is in the British Service — a judge some- 
where down in Malaysia, where they drink more than is good for 

Deliver the two following selections with great earnest- 
ness, and note how the inflections differ from the fore- 
going. Then reread these selections in a light, superficial 
manner, noting that the change of attitude is expressed 
through a change of inflection. 

When I read a sublime fact in Plutarch, or an unselfish deed 
in a line of poetry, or thrill beneath some heroic legend, it is no 
longer fairyland — I have seen it matched. — ^Wendell Phillips. 

Thought is deeper than all speech. 
Feeling deeper than all thought; 

Souls to souls can never teach 
What unto themselves was taught. 


It must be made perfectly clear that inflection deals 
mostly in subtle, delicate shading within single wards, 
and is not by any means accomplished by a general rise 
or fall in the voice in speaking a sentence. Yet certain 
sentences may be effectively delivered with just such in- 
flection. Try this sentence in several ways, making no 


modulation until you come to the last two syllables, as 

And yet I told him dis- 




And yet I told him dis- 



Now try this sentence by inflecting the important 
words so as to bring out various shades of meaning. The 
first forms, illustrated above, show change of pitch wUhin 
a single word; the forms you will work out for yourself 
should show a nmnber of such inflections throughout the 

One of the chief means of seeming emphasis is to em- 
ploy a long falling inflection on the emphatic words — 
that is, to let the voice fall to a lower pitch on an interior 
vowel sound in a word. Try it on the words "every," 
"eleemosynary," and "destroy." 

Use long falling inflections on the italicized words in the 
following selection, noting their emphatic power. Are 
there any other words here that long falling inflections 
would help to make expressive? 


This, sir, is my case. It is the case not merely of that htunble 
institution; it is the case of every college in our land. It is more; 



it 18 the case of every eleemosynary institution throughout our 
country— of all those great charities founded by the piety of our 
ancestors to alleviate human misery and scatter blessings along 
the pathway of life. Sir, you may destroy this little institution — 
it is weak, it is in your hands. I know it is one of the lesser lights 
in the literary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But 
if you do you must carry through your work; you must ex- 
tinguish, one after another, all those great lights of science which, 
for more than a century, have thrown their radiance over our 

It is, sir, as I have said, a small coll^;e, and yet — ^there are 
those who love it I 

Sir, I know not how others may feel, but as for myself when I 
see my alma mater surrounded, like Cflesar in the senate house, 
by those who are reiterating stab after stab, 1 would not for this 
light hand have her turn to me and say. And thou, ioo, my son! 

— Daniel Wbbstbk. 

Be careful not to over-inflect. Too much modulation 
produces an unpleasant effect of artificiality, like a mature 
matron trying to be kittenish. It is a short step between 
true expression and unintentional burlesque. Scrutinize 
your own tones. Take a single expression like ''Oh, 
no!" or "Oh, I see," or "Indeed," and by patient self- 
ezamination see how many shades of meaning may be ex- 
pressed by inflection. This sort of common-sense practise 
will do you more good than a book of rules. Bui don't 
forget to listen to your own voice, 


1. In your own words define (a) cadence, (fi) modlla- 
tion, (c) inflection, {(I) emphasis. \ 

2. Name five ways of destroying monotony and gainiil| 
effectiveness in speech. \ 


3. What states of mind does falling inflection signify? 
Make as full a list as you can. 

4. Do the same for the rising inflection. 

5. How does the voice bend in expressing (a) surprise? 
(b) shame? (c) hate? (d) formality? («) excitement? 

6. Reread some sentence several times and by using 
different inflections change the meaning with each reading. 

7. Note the inflections employed in sonie speech or con- 
versation. Were they the best that could be used to bring 
out the meaning? Criticise and illustrate. 

8. Render the following passages: 

Has the genUeman done? Has he completely done? 
And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. 

9. Invent an indirect question and show how it would 
naturally be inflected. 

10. Does a direct question always require a rising 
inflection? Illustrate. 

11. Illustrate how the complete ending of an expres- 
sion or of a speech is indicated by inflection. 

12. Do the same for incompleteness of idea. 

13. Illustrate (a) trembling, (b) hesitation, and (c) 
doubt by means of inflection. 

14. Show how contrast may be expressed. 

15. Try the effects of both rising and falling inflections 
on the italicized words in the following sentences. State 
your preference. 

Gentlemen, I am persuaded, nay, I am resolved to speak. 
It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. 



In the following selections secure emphasis by means 
of long falling inflections rather than loudness. 

Repeat these selections, attempting to put into prac- 
tise all the technical principles that we have thus far had: 
emphasizing important words, subordinating unimport- 
ant words, variety of pitch, changing tempo, pause, and 
inflection. If these principles are applied you will have 
no trouble with monotony. 

Constant practise will give great facility in the use of 
inflection and will render the voice itself flexible. 


We charge him with having broken his coronation oath; and 
we are told that he kept his marriage vow! We accuse him of 
having given up his people to the merciless inflictions of the most 
hot-headed and hard-hearted of prelates; and the defence is, 
that he took his little son on his knee and kissed him! We cen- 
sure him for having violated the articles of the Petition of Right, 
after having, for good and valuable consideration, promised to 
observe them; and we are informed that he was accustomed to 
hear prayers at six o'clock in the morning ! It is to such considera- 
tions as these, together with his Vandyke dress, his handsome 
face, and his peaked beard, that he owes, we verily believe, most 
of his popularity with the present generation. 

— ^T. B. Macaulat. 


We needed not that he should put on paper that he believed 
in slavery, who, with treason, with murder, with cruelty infernal, 
hovered around that majestic man to destroy his hfe. He was 
himself but the long sting with which slavery struck at liberty; 
and he carried the poison that belonged to slavery. As long as 
this nation lasts, it will never be forgotten that we have one 


martyred President — ^never! Never, while time lasts, while 
heaven lasts, while hell rocks and groans, will it be forgotten that 
slavery, by its minions, slew him, and in slaying him made mani- 
fest its whole nature and tendency. 

But another thing for us to remember is that this blow was 
aimed at the life of the government and of the nation. Lincoln 
was slain; America was meant. The man was cast down; the 
government was smitten at. It was the President who was 
killed. It was national life, breathing freedom and meaning 
beneficence, that was sought. He, the man of Illinois, the pri- 
vate man, divested of robes and the insignia of authority, repre- 
senting nothing but his personal self, might have been hated; 
but that would not have called forth the murderer's blow. It 
was because he stood in the place of government, representing 
government and a government that represented right and liberty, 
that he was singled out. 

This, then, is a crime against tmiversal government. It is 
not a blow at the foundations of our government, more than at 
the foundations of the English government, of the French govern- 
ment, of every compact and well-organized govenmient. It was 
a crime against mankind. The whole world will repudiate and 
stigmatize it as a deed without a shade of redeeming light. . . 

The blow, however, has signally failed. The cause is not strick- 
en; it is strengthened. This nation has dissolved, — ^but in tears 
only. It stands, four-square, more solid, to-day, than any 
pyramid in Egypt. This people are neither wasted, nor daunted, 
nor disordered. Men hate slavery and love liberty with stronger 
hate and love to-day than ever before. The Government is 
not weakened, it is made stronger.. . . . 

And now the martyr is moving in triumphal march, mightier 
than when alive. The nation rises up at every stage of his com- 
ing. Cities and states are his pall-bearers, and the cannon beats 
the hours with solemn progression. Dead — dead — dead — ^he yet 
speaketh! Is Washington dead? Is Hampden dead? Is David 
dead? Is any man dead that ever was fit to live? Disenthralled 
of flesh, and risen to the unobstructed sphere where passion 
never comes, he begins his illimitable work. His life now 
is grafted upon the Infinite, and will be fruitful as no earthly 
life can be. Pass on, thou that hast overcome! Your sorrows* 


O people, ^re his peace! Your bells, and bands, and muffled 
drums sound triumph in his ear. Wail and weep here; 
God makes it echo joy and triumph there. Pass on, thou 

Pour years ago, O Illinois, we took from your midst an untried 
man, and from among the people; we return him to 3rou a mighty 
conqueror. Not thine any more, but the nation's; not ours, but 
the world's. Give him place, ye prairies! In the midst of this 
great Continent his dust shall rest, a sacred treasure to myriads 
who shall make pilgrimage to that shrine to kindle anew their 
zeal and patriotism. Ye winds, that move over the mighty 
places of the West, chant his requiem! Ye people, behold a mar- 
tyr, whose blood, as so many inarticulate words, pleads for fidelity, 
for law, for liberty! — Henry Ward Bbechbr. 


The event which we commemorate is all-important, not merely 
in our own annals, but in those of the world. The sententious 
English poet has declared that "the proper study of mankind 
is man," and of all inquiries of a temporal nature, the history 
of our fellow-beings is unquestionably among the most interest- 
ing. But not all the chapters of human history are alike import- 
ant. The annals of our race have been filled up with incidents 
which concern not, or at least ought not to concern, the great 
company of mankind. History, as it has often been written, 
is the genealogy of princes, the field-book of conquerors; and the 
f orttmes of our fellow-men have been treated only so far as they 
have been affected by the influence of the great masters and des- 
troyers of our race. Such history is, I will not say a worthless 
study, for it is necessary for us to know the dark side as well as 
the bright side of our condition. But it is a melancholy study 
which fills the bosom of the philanthropist and the friend of 
liberty with sorrow. 

But the history of liberty — ^the history of men struggling to be 
free — the history of men who have acquired and are exercising 
their freedom — ^the history of those great movements in the world, 
by which liberty has been established and perpetuated, forms a 
subject which we cannot contemplate too closely. This is the 


real history of man, of the human family, of rational immortal 
beings. • • 

The trial of adversity was theirs; the trial of prosperity is 
ours. Let us meet it as men who know their duty and prize their 
blessings. Our position is the most enviable, the most responsi- 
ble, which men can fill. If this generation does its duty, the cause 
of constitutional freedom is safe. If we fail — if we fail — not only 
do we defraud our children of the inheritance which we received 
from our fathers, but we blast the hopes of the friends of liberty 
throughout our continent, throughout Europe, throughout the 
world, to the end of time. 

History is not without her eicamples of hard-fought fields, where 
the banner of liberty has floated triumphantly on the wildest 
storm of battle. She is without her examples of a people by whom 
the dear-bought treasure has been wisdly employed and safely 
handed down. The eyes of the world are turned for that ex- 
ample to us. . . . 

Let us, then, as we assemble on the birthday of the nation, as 
we gather upon the green turf, once wet with precious blood — ^let 
us devote ourselves to the sacred cause of constitutional liberty! 
Let us abjure the interests and passions which divide the great 
family of American freemen! Let the rage of party spirit sleep 
to-day! Let us resolve that our children shall have cause to 
bless the memory of their fathers, as we have cause to bless the 
memory of ours! — ^Edwakd Everett. 



Attention is the microscope of the mental eye. Its power may 
be high or low; its field of view narrow or broad. When high 
power is used attention is confined within very circumscribed 
limits, but its action is exceedingly intense and absorbing. It 
sees but few things, but these few are observed "through and 
through" . . . Mental energy and activity, whether of 
perception or of thought, thus concentrated, act like the sun's 
rays concentrated by the burning glass. The object is illumined, 
heated, set on fire. Impressions are so deep that they can never 
be effaced. Attention of this sort is the prime condition of the 
most productive mental labor. 

— Daniel Putnam, Psychology, 

Try to nib the top of your head forward and backward 
at the same time that you are patting your chest. Unless 
your powers of coordination are well developed you will 
find it confusing, if not impossible. The brain needs 
special training before it can do two or more things 
efficiently at the same instant. It may seem like split- 
ting a hair between its north and northwest comer, but 
some psychologists argue that no brain can think two 
distinct thoughts, absolutely simultaneoiisly — ^that what 
seems to be simultaneous is really very rapid rotation 
from the first thought to the second and back again, just 
as in the above-cited experiment the attention must shift 
from one hand to the other until one or the other move- 
ment becomes partly or wholly automatic. 

Whatever is the psychological truth of this contention 


it is undeniable that the mind measurably loses grip on 
one idea the moment the attention is projected decidedly 
ahead to a second or a third idea. 

A fault in public speakers that is as pernicious as it is 
common is that they try to think of the succeeding 
sentence while still uttering the former, and in this way 
their concentration trails ofF; in consequence, they start 
their sentences strongly and end them weakly. In a well- 
prepared written speech the emphatic word usually comes 
at one end of the sentence. But an emphatic word needs 
emphatic expression, and this is precisely what it does not 
get when concentration flags by leaping too soon to that 
which is next to be uttered. Concentrate all yoiu: mental 
energies on the present sentence. Remember that the 
mind of your audience follows yours very closely, and if 
you withdraw yoiu: attention from what you are saying 
to what you are going to say, yoiu: audience will also with- 
draw theirs. They may not do so consdoiisly and de- 
liberately, but they will siurely cease to give importance 
to the things that you yourself slight. It is fatal to either 
the actor or the speaker to cross his bridges too soon. 

Of course, all this is not to say that in the natural pauses 
of yoiu: speech you are not to take swift forward surveys — 
they are as important as the forward look in driving a 
motor car; the caution is of quite another sort: while 
speaking one sentence do not think of the sentence to follow. 
Let it come from its proper source — ^within yourself. 
You cannot deliver a broadside without concentrated 
force — ^that is what produces the explosion. In preparation 
you store and concentrate thought and feeling; in the 


pauses during delivery you swiftly look ahead and gather 
yourself for eflFective attack; during the moments of 
actual speech, SPEAK— DON'T ANTICIPA TE. Divide 
your attention and you divide your power. 

This matter of the effect of the inner man upon the 
outer needs a further word here, particularly as touching 

"What do you read, my lord?" Hamlet replied, 
"Words. Words. Words." That is a world-old trouble. 
The mechanical calling of words is not expression, by a 
long stretch. Did you ever notice how hollow a memorized 
speech usually sounds? You have listened to the ranting, 
mechanical cadence of inefficient actors, lawyers and 
preachers. Their trouble is a mental one — they are not 
concentratedly thinking thoughts that cause words to 
issue with sincerity and conviction, but are merely enun- 
ciating word-soimds mechanically. Painful experience 
alike to audience and to speaker! A parrot is equally elo- 
quent. Again let Shakespeare instruct us, this time in 
the insincere prayer of the King, Hamlet's uncle. He 
laments thus pointedly: 

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: 
Words without thoughts never to heaven go. 

The truth is, that as a speaker your words must be bom 
again every time they are spoken, then they will not suffer 
in their utterance, even though perforce committed to 
memory and repeated, like Dr. Russell Conwell's lecture, 
"Acres of Diamonds," five thousand times. Such speeches 
lose nothing by repetition for the perfectly patent reason 


that they axise from concentrated thought and feeling and 
not a mere necessity for saying something — which usually 
means anything, and that, in turn, is tantamount to 
nothing. If the thought beneath your words is warm, 
fresh, q)ontaneous, a part of your sdfj your utterance will 
have breath and life. Words are only a result. Do not 
try to get the result without stimulating the cause. 

Do you ask how to concentrate? Think of the word 
itself, and of its philological brother, concentric. Think of 
how a lens gathers and concenters the rays of light within 
a given drde. It centers them by a process of withdrawal. 
It may seem like a harsh saying, but the man who cannot 
concentrate is either weak of will, a nervous wreck, or has 
never learned what will-power is good for. 

You must concentrate by resolutely withdrawing your 
attention from everything else. If you concentrate your 
thought on a pain which may be afflicting you, that pain 
will grow more intense. " Count your blessings" and they 
will multiply. Center your thought on your strokes and 
yoiu: tennis play will gradually improve. To concentrate 
is simply to attend to one thing, and attend to nothing 
else. If you find that you cannot do that, there is some- 
thing wrong — attend to that first. Remove the cause and 
the symptom will disappear. Read the chapter on ''Will 
Power." Cultivate your will by willing and then doings 
at all costs. Concentrate — and you will win. 


I. Select from any source several sentences suitable for 
speaking aloud; deliver them first in the manner con- 


demned in this chapter, and second with due regard for 
emphasis toward the close of each sentence. 

2. Put into about one hundred words yoiu: impression 
of the effect produced. 

3. Tell of any peculiar methods you may have observed 
or heard of by which speakers have sought to aid their 
powers of concentration, such as looking fixedly at a blank 
spot in the ceiling, or twisting a watch charm. 

4. What effect do such habits have on the audience? 

5. What relation does pause bear to concentration? 

6. Tell why concentration natiurally helps a speaker 
to change pitch, tempo, and emphasis. 

7. Read the following selection through to get its 
meaning and spirit dearly in yoiu: mind. Then read it 
aloud, concentrating solely on the thought that you are 
expressing — do not trouble about the sentence or thought 
that is coming. Half the troubles of mankind arise from 
anticipating trials that never occur. Avoid this in speak- 
ing. Make the end of your sentences just as strong as the 
beginning. CONCENTRATE. 


The last of the savage instincts is war. The cave man's dub 
made law and procured food. Might decreed right. Warriors 
were saviours. 

In Nazareth a carpenter laid down the saw and preadied the 
brotherhood of man. Twdve centuries afterwards his followers 
marched to the Hdy Land to destroy all who differed with them 
in the worship of the God of Love. Triumphantly they wrote 
"In Solomon's Pordi and in his temple our men rode in the bkxxl 
of the tSaraoens up to the knees of their horses." 

History is an appalling tale of war. In the seventeenth century 


Germany, Fiance, Sweden, and Spain warred for thirty years. 
At Magdebui^ 30,000 out of 36,000 were IdUed regardless of sex 
or age. In Germany schools were doeed for a third of a century, 
homes burned, women outraged, towns demolished, and the un- 
tilled land became a wilderness. 

Two-thirds of Germany's property was destroyed and 
18,000,000 of her citizens were killed, because men quarrelled about 
the way to glorify " The Prince of Peace." Marching through rain 
and snow, sleeping on the ground, eating stale food or starving, 
contracting diseases and facing guns that fire six hundred times 
a minute, for fifty cents a day — ^this is the soldier's life. 

At the window sits the widowed mother crying. Little children 
with tearful faces pressed against the pane watch and wait. 
Their means of livdihood, their home, their happiness is gone. 
Fatherless children, broken-hearted women, sick, disabled and 
dead men — ^this is the wage of war. 

We spend more money preparing men to kill each other than 
we do in t^tfioliing them to live. We spend more money building 
one battleship than in the annual maintenance of all our state 
tmiversities. The financial loss resultiog from destroying one 
another's homes in the dvil war would have built 15,000,000 
houses, each costing $2,000. We pray for love but prepare for 
hate. We preach peace but equip for war. 

Were half the power that fills the world with terror. 
Were half the wealth bestowed on camp and court 
Given to redeem this world from error. 
There would be no need of arsenal and fort. 

War only defers a question. No issue will ever really be settled 
until it is settled rightly. Like rival "gun gangs" in a back 
alley, the nations of the world, through the bloody ages, have 
fought over their differences. Denver cannot fight Chicago and 
Iowa cannot fight Ohio. Why should Germany be permitted to 
fight Prance, or Bulgaria fight Turkey? 

When mankind rises above creeds, colors and countries, when 
we are citizens, not of a nation, but of the world, the armies and 
navies of the earth will constitute an international police force 
to perserve the peace and the dove will take the eagle's place. 


Our differeaoes will be settled by an inteniatioiial court with the 
power to enforce its mandates. In times of peace prepare for 
peace. The wages of war are the wages of sin, and the "wages 
of sin is death." 

— Ediiarial by 2>. C, Leslie's Weekly; used by permission. 



However, 'tis expedient to be wary: 
Indifference, certes, don't produce distress; 
And rash enthusiasm in good society 
Were nothing but a moral inebriety. 

— Bykon, Don Juan. 

You have attended plays that seemed fair, yet they did 
not move you, grip you. In theatrical parlance, they 
failed to ''get over," which means that their message did 
not get over the foot-lights to the audience. There was 
no punch, no jab to them — ^they had no force. 

Of course, all this spells disaster, in big letters, not only 
in a stage production but in any platform effort. Every 
such presentation exists solely for the audience, and if it 
fails to hit them — and the expression is a good one — ^it has 
no excuse for living; nor will it live long. 

Wh(U is Force? 

Some of oiu: most obvious words open up secret meanings 
under scrutiny, and this is one of them. 

To b^in with, we must recognize the distinction 
between inner and outer force. The one is cause, the other 
effect. The one is spiritual, the other ph3rsical. In this 
important particular, animate force differs from inanimate 
force — ^the power of man, coming from within and express- 
ing itself outwardly, is of another sort from the force of 


Shimose powder, which awaits some influence from with- 
out to explode it. However susceptive to outside stimulii 
the true source of power in man lies within himself. This 
may seem like "mere psychology/' but it has an intensely 
practical bearing on public q)eakingy as will appear. 

Not only must we discern the difference between human 
force and mere physical force, but we must not confuse its 
real essence with some of the things that may — and may 
not — accompany it. For example, loudness is not force, 
though force at times may be attended by noise. Mere 
roaring never made a good speech, yet there are mo- 
ments — ^moments, mind you, not minutes — ^when big 
voice power may be used with tremendous effect. 

Nor is violent motion force — ^yet force may result in 
violent motion. Hamlet counseled the players: 

Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use 
all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) 
whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a tem- 
perance, that may give it smoothness. Oh, it offends me to 
the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion 
to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings^; 
who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable 
dumb show, and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for 
o'er-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. 

Be not too tame, neither, but let your discretion be your tutor: 
suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this 
special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; 
for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose 
end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, 
the mirror up to Nature, to show Virtue her own feature. Scorn 
her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form 
and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though 

> ThoM who sat in the pit, or parquet. 


it make the tmskillftil laugh, caonot but make the judidous 
grieve; the censure of the which one must, in your aUowanoe, 
o'erweigh a whole theater of others. Oh, there be players that 
I have seen play — and heard others praise, and that highly — not 
to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Chris- 
tians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, or man, have so strutted 
and bellowed tb&t I have thought some of Nature's journeymen 
had made men, and not made them weU, they imitated humanity 
so abominably. ^ 

Force is both a cause and an effect. Inner force, which 
must precede outer force, is a combination of four de- 
ments, acting progressively. First of all, farce arises from 
cawoictUm. You must be convinced of the truth, or the 
importance, or the meaning, of what you are about to 
say before you can give it forceful delivery. It must lay 
strong hold upon your convictions before it can grip your 
audience. Conviction convinces. 

The Sakifday Evening Post in an article on "England's 
T. R." — ^Winston Spencer Churchill — attributed much 
of Churchill's and Roosevelt's public platform success to 
their forceful delivery. No matter what is in hand, these 
men make themselves believe for the time being that that 
one thing is the most important on earth. Hence they 
speak to their audiences in a Do-this-or-you-jP£J{/5i7 

That kind|of speaking wins, and it is that virile, strenu- 
ous, aggressivejj[attitude which both distinguishes and 
maintains the platform careers of our greatest leaders. 

But let us look a little closer at the origins of inner 
force. How does conviction affect the man who feels it? 

1 HtmUi, Act III, SceiM 2. 


We have answered the inquiry in the very question itself 
— bt feds it: CatwicHon produces emotional tension. Study 
the pictures of Theodore Roosevelt and of Billy Sunday in 
action — acHon is the word. Note the tension of their jaw 
muscles, the taut lines of sinews in their entire bodies 
when reaching a climax of force. Moral and physical force 
are alike in being both preceded and accompanied by 
ia-tenS'ity — tension — tightness of the cords of power. 

It is this tautness of the bow-string, this knotting of the 
muscles, this contraction before the spring, that makes 
an audience feel — almost see — the reserve power in a 
speaker. In some really wonderful way it b more what a 
speaker does not say and do that reveals the d3mamo 
within. Anything may come from such stored-up force 
once it is let loose; and that keeps an audience alert, hang- 
ing on the lips of a speaker for his next word. After all, 
it is all a question of manhood, for a stuffed doll has neither 
convictions nor emotional tension. If you are upholstered 
with sawdust, keep off the platform, for your own speech 
will puncture you. 

Growing out of this conviction-tension comes resolve to 
make the audience share that conmction4ension. Purpose is 
the backbone of force; without it speech b flabby — ^it 
may glitter, but it b the iridescence of the spineless jelly- 
fish. You must hold fast to your resolve if you would 
hold fast to your audience. 

Finally, all thb conviction-tension-purpose b lifeless 
and useless unless it results in propulsion. You remember 
how Young in hb wonderful ''Night Thoughts" delineates 
the man who 


Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve, 
Resolves, and re-resolves, and dies the same. 

Let not your force ''die a-boming/' — ^bring it to full life 
in its conviction, emotional tension, resolve, and propul- 
sive power. 

Can Farce be Acquired? 

Yes, if the acquirer has any such capacities as we have 
just outlined. How to acquire this vital factor is sug- 
gested in its very analysis: Live with your subject until 
you are convinced of its importance. 

If your message does not of itself arouse you to tension, 
PULL yourself together. When a man faces the necessity 
of leaping across a crevasse he does not wait for inspiration, 
he wiUs his muscles into tensity for the spring — ^it is not 
without purpose that our English language uses the same 
word to depict a mighty though delicate steel contrivance 
and a quick leap through the air. Then resolve — and let 
it all end in actual punch. 

This truth is worth reiteration: The man within is the 
final factor. He must supply the fuel. The audience, or 
even the man himself, may add the match — ^it matters 
little which, only so that there be fire. However skillfully 
]rour engine is constructed, however well it works, you will 
have no force if the fire has gone out tmder the boiler. 
It matters little how well you have mastered poise, pause, 
modulation, and tempo, if your speech lacks fire it is dead. 
Neither a dead engine nor a dead speech will move any- 

Four factors of force are measurably within your control. 



and in that far may be acquired: ideas, feeling ab<nU the 
subject, wording, and delivery. Each of these is more or 
less fully discussed in this volimie» excq>t wording, which 
really requires a fuller rhetorical study than can here be 
ventured. It is, however, of the utmost importance that 
you should be aware of precisely how wording bears upon 
force in a sentence. Study ''The Working Principles of 
Rhetoric/' by John Franklin Genung, or the rhetorical 
treatises of Adams Sherman Hill, of Charles Sears Baldwin, 
or any others whose names may easQy be learned from 
any teacher. 

Here are a few suggestions on the use of words to 
attain force: 


PLAIN words are more forceful than words less 

commonly ustdr-juggle has more vigor than 

SHORT words are stronger than long words — 

end has more directness than terminate, 
SAXON words are usually more forceful than 

Latinistic words — ^for force, use wars ttgainsi 

rather than militate against. 

of Words "^igp^Qlplc words are stronger than general 
words — pressman is more definite than printer, 
CONNOTATIVE words, those that suggest 
more than they say, have more power than 
ordinary words — " She let herself be married " 
expresses more than ''She married,^^ 
EPITHETS, figuratively descriptive words, arc 
more efifective than direct names — "Go tell 



of Wards 



that old fox,'' has more " punch " than " Go tell 
that sly fellow:' 
ONOMATOPOETIC words, words that convey 
the sense by the sound, are more powerful 
than other words — crash is more effective than 

Cut out modifiers. 

Cut out connectives. 

B^gin with words that demand attention. 

''End with words that deserve distinction/' 
says Prof. Barrett Wendell. 

Set strong ideas over against weaker ones, so 
as to gain strength by the contrast. 

Avoid elaborate sentence structure — short 
sentences are stronger than long ones. 

Cut out every useless word, so as to give 
prominence to the really important ones. 

Let each sentence be a condensed battering 
ram, swinging to its final blow on the attention. 

A familiar, homely idiom, if not worn by much 
use, is more effective than a highly formal, 
scholarly expression. 

Consider well the relative value of different 
positions in the sentence so that you may give 
the prominent place to ideas you wish to empha- 

''But/' says someone, ''is it not more honest to depend 
on the inherent interest in a subject, its native truth, dear- 


ness and sincerity of presentation, and beauty of utter- 
ance, to win your audience? Why not charm men instead 
of capturing them by assault?" 

Why Use Force? 

There is much truth in such an appeal, but not all the 
truth. Clearness, persuasion, beauty, simple statement 
of truth, are all essential — ^indeed, they are all definite 
parts of a forceful presentment of a subject, without 
being the only parts. Strong meat may not be as attrac- 
tive as ices, but all depends on the appetite and the stage 
of the meal. 

You can not deliver an aggressive message with caress- 
ing little strokes. No! Jab it in with hard, swift solar 
plexus punches. You cannot strike fire from flint or from 
an audience with love taps. Say to a crowded theatre in 
a lackadaisical manner: ''It seems to me that the house 
is on fire," and your announcement may be greeted 
mth a laugh. If you flash out the words: ''The house's 
on fire!" they will crush one another in getting to the 

The spirit and the language of force are definite with con- 
viction. No immortal speech in literature contains such 
expressions as "it seems to me," "I should judge," "in 
my opinion," "I suppose," "perhaps it is true." The 
speeches that will live have been delivered by men ablaze 
mth the courage of their convictions, who uttered their 
words as eternal truth. Of Jesus it was said that "the 
common people heard Him gladly." Why? "He taught 


them as one having A VTHORITY:' An audience will 
never be moved by what "seems" to you to be truth or 
what in your " humble opinion " may be so. If you honest- 
ly can, assert convictions as your conclusions. Be sure you 
are right before you speak your speech, then utter your 
thoughts as though they were a Gibraltar of unimpeacha- 
ble fmUh. Deliver them with the iron hand and confi- 
dence of a Cromwell. Assert them with the fire of authority. 
Pronounce them as an ulHrnatum. If you cannot speak 
with conviction, be silent. 

What force did that young minister have who, fearing 
to be too dogmatic, thus exhorted his hearers: "My 
friends — ^as I assume that you are — ^it appears to be my 
duty to tell you that if you do not repent, so to speak, 
forsake your sins, as it were, and turn to righteousness, 
if I may so express it, you will be lost, in a measure"? 

Effective speech must reflect the era. This is not a 
rose water age, and a tepid, half-hearted speech will not 
win. This is the century of trip hammers, of overland 
expresses that dash under cities and through moimtain 
tunnels, and you must instill this spirit into your speech 
if you would move a popular audience. From a front 
seat listen to a first-dass company present a modem 
Broadway drama — ^not a comedy, but a gripping, thrilling 
drama. Do not become absorbed in the story; reserve 
all your attention for the technique and the force of the 
acting. There is a kick and a crash as well as an infinitely 
subtle intensity in the big, climax-speeches that suggest 
this lesson: the same well-calculated, restrained, deli- 
cately shaded force would simply rivet your ideas in the 


minds of your audience. An air-gun will rattle bird-shot 
against a window pane — ^it takes a rifle to wing a bullet 
through plate glass and the oaken walls beyond. 

When to Use Force 

An audience b unlike the kingdom of heaven — ^the vio- 
lent do not always take it by force. There are times when 
beauty and serenity should be the only bells in your chime. 
Force is only one of the great extremes of contrast — 
use neither it nor quiet utterance to the exclusion of other 
tones: be various, and in variety find even greater force 
than you could attain by attempting its constant use. 
If you are reading an essay on the beauties of the dawn, 
talking about the dainty bloom of a honey-suckle, or 
explaining the mechanism of a gas engine, a vigorous 
style of delivery is entirely out of place. But when you 
are appealing to wills and consciences for immediate 
action, forceful delivery wins. In such cases, consider 
the minds of your audience as so many safes that have 
been locked and the keys lost. Do not try to figure out 
the combinations. Poiu: a little nitro gylcerine into the 
cracks and light the fuse. As these Unes are being written 
a contractor down the street is clearing away the rocks 
with dynamite to lay the foimdations for a great building. 
When you want to get action, do not fear to use dynamite. 

The final argument for the effectiveness of force in 
public speech is the fact that everything must be enlarged 
for the purposes of the platform — ^that is why so few 
q>eeches read well in the rq>orts on the morning after: 


statements appear crude and exaggerated because they 
are unaccompanied by the forceful delivery of a glowing 
speaker before an audience heated to attentive enthusi- 
asm. So in prq>aring your speech you must not err on 
the side of mild statement — ^your audience will inevitably 
tone down your words in the cold grey of afterthought. 
When Phidias was criticised for the rough, bold outlines 
of a figure he had submitted in competition, he smiled 
and asked that his statue and the one wrought by his 
rival should be set upon the column for which the sculp- 
ture was destined. When this was done all the exaggera- 
tions and crudities, toned by distances, melted into ex- 
quisite grace of line and form. Each speech must be a 
special study in suitability and proportion. 

Omit the thunder of delivery, if you will, but like 
Wendell Phillips puf silent lightning" into your speech. 
Make yoiu: thoughts breathe and your words bum. 
Birrell said: '' Emerson writes like an electrical cat 
emitting sparks and shocks in every sentence." Go thou 
and speak likewise. Get the ''big stick" into your de- 
livery — ^be f orcefid. 


1. Illustrate, by repeating a sentence from memory, 
what is meant by employing force in speaking. 

2. Which in your opinion is the most important of the 
technical principles of speaking that you have studied so 
far? Why? 

3. What is the e£Fect of too much force in a speech? 
Too litde? 


4. Note some uninteresting conversation or ii 
q>eech, and tell why it failed. 

5. Suggest how it might be improved. 

6. Why do speeches have to be spoken with more 
force than do conversations? 

7. Read aloud the selection on page 84, using the 
technical principles outlined in chapters m to VHI, but 
neglect to put any force behind the interpretation. What 
is the result? 

8. Reread several times, doing your best to achieve 

9. Which parts of the selection on page 84 require 
the most force? 

10. Write a five-minute q)eech not only discussing 
the errors of those who exaggerate and those who minimize 
the use of force, but by imitation show their weaknesses. 
Do not burlesque, but closely imitate. 

11. Give a list of ten themes for public addresses, 
saying which seem most likely to require the frequent 
use of force in delivery. 

12. In your own opinion, do speakers usually err from 
the use of too much or too little force? 

13. Define (a) bombast; (b) bathos; (c) sentimen- 
tality; (d) squeamish. 

14. Say how the forgoing words describe weaknesses 
in public speech. 

15. Recast in twentieth-century English '^Hamlet's 
Directions to the Players,'' page 88. 

16. Memorize the following extracts from Wen- 
dell Phillips' speeches, and deliver them with the 


force of Wenddl Phillips' "silent lightning" delivery. 

We are for a revolution! We say in behalf of these hunted 
beings, whom God created, and who law-abiding Webster and 
Winthrop have sworn shall not find shelter in Massachusetts, — 
we say that they may make their little motions, and pass their 
Httle laws in Washington, but that Paneuil Hall repeals them in 
the name of humanity and the old Bay State! 

My advice to workingmen is this: 

If you want power in this country; if you want to make 3rour- 
selves felt; if you do not want your children to wait long years 
before they have the bread on the table they ought to have, the 
leisure in their lives they ought to have, the opportunities in 
life they ought to have; if you don't want to wait yourselves, — 
write on your banner, so that every political trimmer can read it, 
so that every politician, no matter how short-sighted he may be, 
can read it, **WB NEVER PORGETt If you launch the 
arrow of sarcasm at labor, WE NEVER PORGETI If there is a 
division in Congress, and you throw your vote in the wrong scale, 
WE NEVER PORGETt You may go down on your knees, and 
say, 'I am sorry I did the act'— but we will say 'IT WILL 
SIDE OP THE GRAVE, NEVER!'** So that a man in taking 
np the labor question will know he is dealing with a hair-trigger 
pistol, and will say, "I am to be true to justice and to man; 
otherwise I am a dead duck." 

In Russia there is no press, no debate, no explanation of what 
government does, no remonstrance allowed, no agitation of public 
issues. Dead silence, like that which reigns at the summit of 
Mont Blanc, freezes the whole empire, long ago described as "a 
despotism tempered by assassination." Meanwhile, such des- 
potism has unsettled the brains of the ruling family, as unbridled 
power doubtless made some of the twelve Caesars insane; a mad- 
man, sporting with the lives and comfort of a hundred millions 
of men. The young girl whispers in her mother's ear, under a 
ceiled roof, her pity for a brother knouted and, dragged half 

t V ' ' * 



dead into exile for his opinions. The next week she is stripped 
naked and flogged to death in the public square. No inquiry, 
no explanation, no trial, no protest, one dead uniform silence, 
the law of the tyrant. Where is there ground for any hope of 
peaceful change? No, no! in such a land dynamite and the dagger 
are the necessary and proper substitutes for Paneuil Hall. Any- 
thing that will make the mAJ^mttn quake in his bedchamber, and 
rouse his yictims into reckless and desperate resistance. This 
is the only view an American, the child of 1620 and 1776, can 
take of Nihilism. Any other unsettles and perplexes the ethics 
of our civilization. 

Bom within sight of Bunker Hill — son of Harvard, whose first 
pledge was "Truth," citizen of a republic based on the daim that 
no government is rightful unless resting on the consent of the 
people, and which assumes to lead in asserting the rights of 
humanity — ^I at least can say nothing else and nothing less — no, 
not if every tile on Cambridge roofs were a devil hooting my 

For practise on forceful selections^ use ''The Irrepressi- 
ble Conflict," page 67; ''Abraham Lincoln/' page 76; 
"Pass Prosperity Around," page 470; "A Plea for Cuba," 
page so. 



Enthusiasm is that secret and harmonious spirit that hovers 
over the production of genius. 

— ^IsAAC Disraeli, Literary Character. 

If you are addressing a body of sdentists on such a 
subject as the veins in a butterfly's wings, or on road struct* 
ure, naturally your theme will not arouse much feeling 
in either you or yoiu: audience. These are purely mental 
subjects. But if you want men to vote for a measure that 
will abolish child labor, or if you would inspire them to 
take up arms for freedom, you must strike straight at 
their feelings. We lie on soft beds, sit near the radiator 
on a cold day, eat cherry pie, and devote our attention 
to one of the opposite sex, not because we have reasoned 
out that it is the right thing to do, but because it feels 
right. No one but a d3rspeptic chooses his diet from a 
chart. Our feelings dictate what we shall eat and gen- 
erally how we shall act. Man is a feeling animal, hence 
the public speaker's ability to arouse men to action de- 
pends almost wholly on his ability to touch their emotions. 

Negro mothers on the auction-block seeing their chil- 
dren sold away from them into slavery have flamed out 
some of America's most stirring speeches. True, the 
mother did not have any knowledge of the technique of 
speaking, but she had something greater than all technique, 
more effective than reason: feeling. The great speeches 


of the world have not been delivered on tariff reductions 
or post-office appropriations. The speeches that wiU live 
have been charged with emotional force. Prosperity and 
peace are poor developers of eloquence. When great 
wrongs are to be righted, when the public heart is flaming 
with passion, that is the occasion for memorable speaking. 
Patrick Henry made an immortal address, for in an 
epochal crisis he pleaded for liberty. He had roused him- 
self to the point where he could honestly and passionately 
exclaim, "Give me liberty or give me death." His fame 
would have been different had he lived to-day and argued 
for the recall of judges. 

The Power of Entiiusiasm 

Political parties hire bands, and pay for applause — they 
argue that, for vote-getting, to stir up enthusiasm is more 
effective than reasoning. How far they are right depends 
on the hearers, but there can be no doubt about the con- 
tagious nature of enthusiasm. A watch manufacturer in 
New York tried out two series of watch advertisements; 
one argued the superior construction, workmanship, 
durability, and guarantee offered with the watch; the 
other was headed, "A Watch to be Proud of," and dwelt 
upon the pleasure and pride of ownership. The latter 
series sold twice as many as the former. A salesman for 
a locomotive works informed the writer that in selling 
railroad engines emotional appeal was stronger than an 
argument based on mechanical excellence. 

Illustrations without number might be dted to show 



that in all our actions we are emotional beings. The 
speaker who would speak efficiently must develop the 
power to arouse feeling. 

Webster, great debater that he was, knew that the real 
secret of a speaker's power was an emotional one. He 
eloquently says of eloquence: 

"Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declama- 
tion, all may aspire after it; they cannot reach it. It comes, if 
it come at all, like the outbreak of a fountain from the earth, or 
the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, 
native force. 

"The graces taught ia the schools, the costly ornaments and 
studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their 
own lives, and the fate .'of their wives, their children, and their 
country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost 
their power, rhetoric is ia vain, and all elaborate oratory con- 
temptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as 
in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is eloquent, 
then self-devotion is eloquent. The dear conception outrunning 
the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the 
dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, 
informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, 
right onward to his subject — ^this, this is eloquence; or rather, 
it is something greater and higher than all eloquence; it is action* 
noble, sublime, godlike action." 

When traveling through the Northwest some time ago, 
one of the present writers strolled up a village street after 
dinner and noticed a crowd listening to a "faker" speaking 
on a comer from a goods-box. Remembering Emerson's 
advice about learning something from every man we meet, 
the observer stopped to listen to this speaker's appeal. 
He was selling a hair tonic, which he claimed to have dis- 
covered in Arizona. He removed his hat to show what thb 


remedy had done for him, washed his face in it to demon- 
strate that it was as harmless as water, and enlarged on its 
merits in such an enthusiastic manner that the half- 
dollars poured in on him in a silver flood. When he had 
supplied the audience with hair tonic, he asked why a 
greater proportion of men than women were bald. No 
one knew. He explained that it was because women wore 
thinner-soled shoes, and so made a good electrical con- 
nection with mother earth, while men wore thick, dry- 
soled shoes that did not transmit the earth's electricity to 
the body. Men's hair, not having a proper amount of 
electrical food, died and fell out. Of course he had a 
remedy — a little copper plate that should be nailed on the 
bottom of the shoe. He pictiu'ed in enthusiastic and vivid 
terms the desirability of escaping baldness — ^and paid 
tributes to his copper plates. Strange as it may seem 
when the story is told in cold print, the speaker's en- 
thusiasm had swept his audience with him, and they 
crushed around his stand with outstretched "quarters" 
in their anxiety to be the possessors of these magical 
plates 1 

Emerson's suggestion had been well taken — the observer 
had seen again the wonderful, persuasive power of en- 

Enthusiasm sent millions crusading into the Holy Land 
to redeem it from the Saracens. Enthusiasm plunged 
Eiu'ope into a thirty years' war over religion. Enthusiasm 
sent three small ships plying the unknown sea to the 
shores of a new world. When Napoleon's army were 
worn out and discoiu-aged in their ascent of the Alps, 


the little Coiporal stopped them and ordered the bands 
to play the Marseillaise. Under its soul-stirring strains 
there were no Alps. 

listen! Emerson said: ''Nothing great was ever 
achieved without enthusiasm." Carlyle declared that 
''Every great movement in the annals of history has been 
the triumph of enthusiasm." It is as contagious as 
measles. Eloquence is half inspiration. Sweep your 
audience with you in a pulsation of enthusiasm. Let your- 
self go. "A man," said Oliver Cromwell, "never rises so 
high as when he knows not whither he is going." 

Hew are We to Acquire and Develop Enihusiasmf 

It is not to be slipped on like a smoking jacket. A book 
cannot furnish you with it. It is a growth — an effect. 
But an effect of what? Let us see. 

Emerson wrote: "A painter told me that nobody could 
draw a tree without in some sort becoming a tree; or draw 
a child by stud3dng the outlines of his form merely, — ^but, 
by watching for a time his motion and plays, the painter 
enters his natiu'e, and then can draw him at will in every 
attitude. So Roos 'entered into the inmost nature of his 
sheep.' I knew a draughtsman employed in a public sur- 
vey, who fotmd that he could not sketch the rocks until 
their geological structure was first explained to him." 

When Sarah Bernhardt plays a difficult r61e she fre- 
quently will speak to no one from four o'clock in the after- 
noon until after the performance. From the hour of f oiu: 
she lives her character. Booth, it is reported, would not 


permit anyone to speak to him between the acts of his 
Shakesperean r61es, for he was Macbeth then — ^not Booth. 
Dante, exiled from his beloved Florence, condenmed to 
death, lived in caves, half starved; then Dante wrote out 
his heart in "The Divine Comedy." Bun3ran entered 
into the spirit of his'^Pflgrim's Progress" so thoroughly that 
he fell down on the floor of Bedford jail and wept for joy. 
Turner, who lived in a garret, arose before daybreak and 
walked over the hills nine miles to see the sun rise on the 
ocean, that he might catch the spirit of its wonderful 
beauty. Wendell Phillips' sentences were full of "silent 
lightning" because he bore in his heart the sorrow of five 
million slaves. 

There is only one way to get feeling into your speaking — 
and whatever else you forget, forget not this: You must 
actually ENTER INTO the character you impersonate, 
the cause you advocate, the case you argue — enter into it 
so deeply that it clothes you, enthralls you, possesses jrou 
wholly. Then you are, in the true meaning of the word, 
in sympathy with yoiu* subject, for its feeling is your 
feeling, you "feel with" it, and therefore yoiu- enthusiasm 
is both genuine and contagious. The Carpenter who 
spoke as "never man spake" uttered words bom out of a 
passion of love for humanity — ^he had entered into hu- 
manity, and thus became Man. 

But we must not look upon the foregoing words as a 
facile prescription for decocting a feeling which may thai 
be ladled out to a complacent audience in quantities to 
suit the need of the moment. Genuine feeling in a speech 
is bone and blood of the speech itself and not something 


that may be added to it or substracted at will. In the 
ideal address theme, speaker and audience become one, 
fused by the emotion and thought of the hoiu*. 

The Need of Sympathy far Humanity 

It is impossible to lay too much stress on the necessity 
for the speaker's having a broad and deep tenderness for 
htunan nature. One of Victor Hugo's biographers at- 
tributes his power as an orator and writer to his wide 
sympathies and profound religious feelings. Recently we 
heard the editor of Cottier's Weekly speak on short- 
story writing, and he so often emphasized the necessity 
for this broad love for htunanity , this truly religious feeling, 
that he apologized twice for delivering a sermon. Few 
if any of the immortal speeches were ever delivered for a 
selfish or a narrow cause — they were bom out of a pas- 
sionate desire to help humanity; instances, Paul's address 
to the Athenians on Mars Hill, Lincoln's Gettysburg 
speech. The Sermon on the Mount, Henry's address be- 
fore the Virginia Convention of Del^ates. 

The seal and sign of greatness is a desire to serve others. 
Self-preservation is the first law of life, but self-abnegation 
is the first law of greatness — and of art. Selfishness is the 
ftmdamental cause of all sin, it is the thing that all great 
religions, all worthy philosophies, have struck at. Out of 
a heart of real sympathy and love come the speeches that 
move htunanity. 

Former United States Senator Albert J. Beveridge in an 
introduction to one of the volimies of ''Modem Elo- 
quence/' says: ''The profoundest feeling among the 


masses, the most influential element in thdr chaiacteTi is 
the religious element. It is as instinctive and elemental 
as the law of self-preservation. It informs the whole in- 
tellect and personality of the people. And he who would 
greatly influence the people by uttering their unformed 
thoughts must have this great and imanalyzable bond of 
sympathy with them." 

When the men of Ulster armed themselves to oppose the 
passage of the Home Rule Act, one of the present writers 
assigned to a hundred men ''Home Rule" as the topic 
for an address to be prepared by each. Among this group 
were some brilliant speakers, several of them experienced 
lawyers and political campaigners. Some of their ad- 
dresses showed a remarkable knowledge and grasp of the 
subject; others were clothed in the most attractive 
phrases. But a clerk, without a great deal of education 
and experience, arose and told how he spent his boyhood 
days in Ulster, how his mother while holding him on her 
lap had pictiu'ed to him Ulster's deeds of valor. He spoke 
of a picture in his uncle's home that showed the men of 
Ulster conquering a t3n:ant and marching on to victory. 
His voice quivered, and with a hand pointing upward he 
declared that if the men of Ulster went to war they would 
not go alone — a great God would go with them. 

The speech thrilled and electrified the audience. It 
thrills yet as we recall it. The high-sounding phrases, 
the historical knowledge, the philosophical treatment, ol 
the other speakers largely failed to arouse any deep in- 
terest, while the genuine conviction and feeling of the 
modest clerk, speaking on a subject that lay deep in his 


hearty not only electrified his audience but won their 
personal sympathy for the cause he advocated. 

As Webster said, it is of no use to try to pretend to 
sympathy or feelings. It cannot be done successfully. 
'^ Nature is forever putting a premitun on reality." What 
is false is soon detected as such. The thoughts and feelings 
that create and mould the speech in the study must be 
bom again when the speech is delivered from the platform. 
Do not let your words say one thing, and your voice and 
attitude another. There is no room here for half-hearted, 
nonchalant methods of delivery. Sincerity is the very soul 
of eloquence. Carlyle was right: ''No Mirabeau, Na- 
poleon, Bums, Cromwell, no man adequate to do anything, 
but is first of all in right eamest about it; what I call a 
sincere man. I should say sincerity, a great, deep, genuine 
sincerity, is the first characteristic of all men in any way 
heroic. Not the sincerity that calls itself sincere; ah no, 
that is a very poor matter indeed; a shallow braggart, 
conscious sincerity, oftenest self-conceit mainly. The 
great man's sincerity is of the kind he cannot speak of — ^is 
not conscious of." 


It is one thing to convince the would-be speaker that 
he ought to put feeling into his speeches; often it is quite 
another thing for him to do it. The average speaker is 
afraid to let himself go, and continually suppresses his 
emotions. When you put enough feeling into your 
speeches they will sotmd overdone to you, imless you are 
an experienced speaker. They will sound too strong, if 


you are not used to enlarging for platform or stage, for 
the delineation of the emotions must be enlarged for pub- 
lic delivery. 

I. Study the following speech, going back in your 
imagination to the time and circumstances that brought it 
forth. Make it not a memorized historical document, but 
fed the emotions that gave it birth. The q>eech is only 
an effect; live over in your own heart the causes that pro- 
duced it and try to deliver it at white heat. It is not 
possible for you to put too much real feeling into it» 
though of course it would be quite easy to rant and fill it 
with false emotion. This speech, according to Thomas Jef- 
ferson, started the. ball of the Revolution rolling. Men 
were then willing to go out and die for liberty. 



Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions 
of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, 
and listen to the song of that siren, till she transforms us to beasts. 
Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous 
struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those 
who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things 
which so nearly concern our temporal salvation? For my part, 
whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know 
the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that 
is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the 
future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know 
what there has been in the conduct of the British Ministry for 
the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen 
have been pleased to solace themselves and the House? Is it 
that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately re- 


ceived? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. 
Suffer not yourselves to be "betrayed with a kiss"! Ask your- 
selves, how this gracious reception of our petition comports with 
those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken 
our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and 
reooncilation? Have we shown ourselves so unwiUing to be rec- 
onciled, that force must be called in to win back our love? Let 
us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war 
and subjugation, the last "arguments" to which kings resort. 
I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its pur- 
pose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any 
other possible motive for it? Has Great Britian any enemy in 
this quarter of the world, to (all for all this accumulation of navies 
and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they 
can be meant for jio other. They are sent over to bind and to 
rivet upon us those chains which the British Ministry have been 
so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall 
we try argumeAt? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten 
years. Have we an3rthing new to offer upon the subject? Noth- 
ing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is 
capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty 
and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have 
not been already exhausted? /Let us not, I beseech you, sir, de- 
ceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could 
be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have 
petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we have 
prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its 
interposition to arrest the tryannical hands of the Ministry and 
Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances 
have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications 
have been disregarded, and we have been spumed with contempt 
from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, 
may we indulge in the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. 
There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if 
we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for 
which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely 
to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long en- 
gaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon 
until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must 


fight; I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms, and to 
the God of Hosts, is all that is left us! 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak — "unable to cope with so 
formidable an adversary "I But when shall we be stronger? Will 
it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are 
totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in 
every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and in- 
action? Shall we kcqtiire the means of effectual resistance, by 
lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom 
of hope, tmtfl our enemies have botmd us hand and foot? Sir, 
we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which 
the God of Nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of 
people, armed in the holy cause of Liberty, and in such a country 
as that which we possess, are invincible by any force Which our 
enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our 
battles alone. There is a just Power who presides over the des- 
tinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles 
for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the 
vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. 
If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire 
from the contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and 
slavery. Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard 
on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable; and let it come! 
I repeat it, sir, let it come I It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the mat- 
ter. Gentlemen may cry ''Peace, peace!" but there is no peace! 
The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the 
north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our 
brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What 
is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so 
dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains 
and slavery? Forbid it. Almighty Powers! — ^I know not what 
course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give 
me death! 

2. Live over in your imagination all the solemnity and 
sorrow that Lincoln felt at the Gettysburg cemetery. The 
feeling in this speech is very deep, but it is quieter and more 
subdued than the preceding one. The purpose of Henry's 


address was to get action; Lincoln's q>eech was meant only 
to dedicate the last resting place of those who had acted. 
Read it over and over (see page 50) until it bums in your 
soul. Then commit it and repeat it for emotional ex- 

3. Beecher's q>eech on Lincoln, page 76; Thurston's 
qpeech on ''A Plea for Cuba/' page 50; and the fol- 
lowing selectioUi are recommended for practise in develop- 
ing feeling in delivery. 

A living force that brings to itself all the resources of imagina- 
tion, all the inspirations <^ feeling, all that is influential in body, 
in voice, in eye, in gesture, in posture, in the whole animated man, 
is in strict analogy with the divine thought and the divine ar- 
rangement; and there is no misconstruction more utterly untrue 
and fatal than this: that oratory is an artificial thing, which 
deals with baubles and trifles, for the sake of making bubbles of 
pleasure for transient effect on mercurial audiences. So far from 
that, it is the consecration of the whole man to the noblest pur- 
poses to which one can address himself — ^the education and in- 
spiration of his fellow men by all that there is in learning, by all 
that there is in thought, by all that there is in feeling, by all that 
there is in all of them, sent home through the chantiftls of taste 
and of beauty. — ^Hbnkt Wasd Bbbchbr. 

4. What in your opinion are the relative values of 
thought and feeling in a speech? 

5. Could we dispense with either? 

6. What kinds of selections or occasions require much 
feeUng and enthusiasm? Which require little? 

7. Invent a list of ten subjects for speeches, saying 
which would give most room for pure thought and which 
for feeling. 

8. Prepare and deliver a ten-nunute speech denouncing 


the (imaginary) unfeeling plea of an attorney; he may be 
either the counsel for the defense or the prosecuting 
attorney, and the accused may be assumed to be either 
guilty or innocent, at your option. 

9. Is feeling more important than the technical prin- 
ciples expounded in chapters m to VII? Why? 

10. Analyze the secret of some effective speech or 
speaker. To what is the success due? 

11. Give an example from your own observation of the 
effect of feeling and enthusiasm on listeners. 

Z2« Memorize Carlyle's and Emerson's remarks on en- 

13. Deliver Patrick Henry's address, page no, and 
Thurston's speech, page 50, without show of feeling or 
enthusiasm. What is the result? 

14. Repeat, with all the feeling these selections de- 
mand. What is the result? 

15. What steps do you intend to take to develop the 
power of enthusiasm and feeling in speaking? 

16. Write and deliver a five-nunute speech ridiculing 
a speaker who uses bombast, pomposity and over- 
enthusiasm. Imitate him. 



Animis opibusque parati — ^Ready in mind and resources. 

— Motto of South Carolina, 

In omnibus n^otiis prius quam aggrediare, adhibenda est 
praeparatio diligens — ^In all matters before beginning a diligent 
preparation should be made. 

— Cicero, De Officiis. 

Take your dictionary and look up the words that con- 
tain the Latin stem flu — the results will be suggestive. 

At first blush it would seem that fluency consists in 
a ready, easy use of words. Not so — the flowing quality 
of speech is much more, for it is a composite effect, with 
each of its prior conditions deserving of careful notice. 

The Sources of Fluency 

Speaking broadly, fluency is almost entirely a matter 
of preparation. Certainly, native gifts figure largely here, 
as in every art, but even natiu'al facility is dependent on 
the very same laws of preparation that hold good for the 
man of supposedly small native endowment. Let this 
encourage you if, like Moses, you are prone to complain 
that you are not a ready speaker. 

Have you ever stopped to analyze that expression, 
"a, ready speaker?" Readiness, in its prime sense, is 
preparedness', and they are most ready who are best pre- 
pared. Quick firing depends more on the alert finger than 


on the hair trigger. Your fluency will be in direct ratio 
to two important conditions: your knowledge of what you 
are going to say, and your being accustomed to telling 
what you know to an audience. This gives us the second 
great element of fluency — to preparation must be added 
the ease that arises from practise; of which more pres- 

Knowledge is EssenUal 

Mr. Bryan is a most fluent speaker when he speaks on 
political problems, tendencies of the time, and questions 
of morals. It is to be supposed, however, that he would not 
be so fluent in speaking on the bird life of the Florida 
Everglades. Mr. John Burroughs might be at his best 
on this last subject, yet entirely lost in talking about inter- 
national law. Do not expect to speak fluently on a subject 
that you know little or nothing about. Ctesiphon boasted 
that he could speak all day (a sin in itself) on any subject 
that an audience would suggest. He was banished by the 

But preparation goes beyond the getting of the facts 
in the case you are to present: it includes also the ability 
to think and arrange yoiu: thoughts, a full and precise 
vocabulary, an easy manner of speech and breathing, 
absence of self-consciousness, and the several other 
characteristics of efficient delivery that have deserved 
special attention in other parts of this book rather than in 
this chapter. 

Preparation may be either general or specific; usually it 
should be both. A life-time of reading, of companionship 


with stirring thoughts, of wrestling with the problems of 
life — ^this constitutes a general preparation of inestimable 
worth. Out of a well-stored mind, and — ^richer still — ^a 
broad experience, and — ^best of all — a warmly sympathetic 
heart, the speaker will have to draw much material that 
no immediate study could provide. General preparation 
consbts of all that a man has put into himself, all that 
heredity and environment have instilled into him, and — 
that other rich source of preparedness for speech — ^the 
friendship of wise companions. When Schiller returned 
home after a visit with Goethe a friend remarked: "I am 
amazed by the progress Schiller can make within a single 
fortnight." It was the progressive influence of a new 
friendship. Proper friendships form one of the best means 
for the formation of ideas and ideals, for they enable one 
to practise in giving expression to thought. The speaker 
who would speak fluently before an audience should learn 
to speak fluently and entertainingly with a friend. Clarify 
your ideas by putting them in words; the talker gains 
as much from his conversation as the listener. You some- 
times begin to converse on a subject thinking you have 
very little to say, but one idea gives birth to another, and 
you are surprised to learn that the more you give the more 
you have to give. This give-and-take of friendly conversa- 
tion develops mentality, and fluency in expression. Long- 
fellow said: ''A single conversation across the table with a 
wise man is better than ten years' study of books," and 
Holmes whimsically yet none the less truthfully declared 
that half the time he talked to find out what he thought. 
But that method must not be applied on the platform! 


After all this enrichment of life by storage, must come 
the special preparation for the particular speech. This 
is of so definite a sort that it warrants separate chapter- 
treatment later. 


But preparation must also be of another sort than the 
gathering, organizing, and shaping of materials — ^it must 
include practise, which, like mental preparation, must be 
both general and special. 

Do not fed surprised or discouraged if practise on the 
principles of delivery herein laid down seems to retard 
your fluency. For a time, this will be inevitable. While 
you are working for proper inflection, for instance, in- 
flection will be demanding your first thoughts, and the 
flow of your speech, for the time being, will be secondary. 
This warning, however, is strictly for the closet, for your 
practise at home. Do not carry any thoughts of inflection 
with you to the platform. There you must tkink only of 
your subject. There is an absolute telqpathy between the 
audience and the speaker. If your thought goes to your 
gesture, their thought will too. If your interest goes to 
the quality of your voice, they will be regarding that in- 
stead of what your voice is uttering. 

You have doubtless been adjured to "forget everything 
but your subject." This advice sa3rs either too much or 
too little. The truth is that while on the platform )rou 
must not forget a great many things that are not in your 
subject, but you must not think of them. Your attention 
must consciously go only to your message, but sub- 


consciously you will be attending to the points of technique 
which have become more or less habUual by pracUse. 

A nice balance between these two kinds of attention is 

You can no more escape this law than you can live with- 
out air: Your platform gestures, your voice, your in- 
flection, will all be just as good as your habU of gesture, 
voice, and inflection makes them — ^no better. Even the 
thought of whether you are speaking fluently or not will 
have the effect of marring your flow of speech. 

Return to the opening chapter, on self-confidence, and 
again lay its precepts to heart. Learn by rules to speak 
without thinking of rules. It is not — or ought not to be — 
necessary for you to stop to think how to say the alphabet 
correctly, as a matter of fact it is slightly more difficult 
for you to repeat Z, Y, X than it is to say X, Y, Z — ^habit 
has established the order. Just so you must master the 
laws of efficiency in speaking until it is a second nature 
for you to speak correctly rather than otherwise. A be- 
ginner at the piano has a great deal of trouble with the 
mechanics of playing, but as time goes on his fingers be- 
come trained and almost instinctively wander over the 
keys correctly. As an inexperienced speaker you will find 
a great deal of difficulty at first in putting principles 
into practise, for you will be scared, like the young 
swimmer, and make some crude strokes, but if you per- 
severe you will "win out." 

Thus, to siun up, the vocabulary you have enlarged 
by study, 1 the ease in speaking you have developed by 

>8m ohApter on "Iniiiwtina tbe Voo«buUiy." 


practise, the economy of your well-studied emphasis, 
all will subconsciously come to your aid on the platform. 
Then the habits you have formed will be ft<trning 
you a splendid dividend. The fluency of 3rour speeds 
will be at the speed of flow your practise has made 

But this means work. What good habit does not? No 
philosopher's stone thatwill act as a substitute for laborious 
practise has ever been found. If it were, it would be thrown 
away, because it would kill our greatest joy — ^the delight 
of acquisition. If public-q>eaking means to you a fuller 
life, you will know no greater happiness than a well- 
spoken speech. The time you have spent in gathering 
ideas and in private practise of speaking you will find 
amply rewarded. 


1. What advantages has the fluent speaker over the 
hesitating talker? 

2. What influences, within and without the man him- 
self, work against fluency? 

3. Select from the daily paper some topic for an ad- 
dress and make a three-minute address on it. Do your 
words come freely and your sentences flow out rhythmic- 
ally? Practise on the same topic imtil they do. 

4. Select some subject with which you are familiar 
and test your fluency by speaking extemporaneously. 

5. Take one of the sentiments given below and, fol- 
lovdng the advice given on pages 118-119, construct a 
short speech beginning mth the last word in the sentence. 


Machixiery has created a new economic world. 

The Socialist Party is a strenuous worker for peace. 

He was a crushed and broken man when he left prison. 

War must ultimately give way to world-wide arbitration. 

The labor unions demand a more equal distribution of the 
wealth that labor creates. 

6. Put the sentiments of Mr. Bryan's "Prince of 
Peace," on page 448, into your own words. Honestly 
criticise your own effort. 

7. Take any of the following quotations and make a 
five-minute speech on it without pausing to prepare. Tlie 
first efforts may be very lame, but if you want speed on a 
typewriter, a record for a hundred-3rard dash, or facility 
in speaking, you must practise, practise, PRACTISE. 

There lives more faith in honest doubt, 
Believe me, than in half the creeds. 

— ^Tbnnyson, In Memoriam. 

Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 

'Tis only noble to be good. 
Kind hearts are more than coronets. 

And siitiple faith than Norman blood. 

— ^Tennyson, Lady Clara Vere de Vere. 

'Tis' distance lends enchantment to the view 
And robes the mountain in its azure hue. 

— Campbell, Pleasures of Hope. 

His best companions, innocence and health. 
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 

— Goldsmith, The Deserted ViUage. 

Beware of desperate steps! The darkest day. 
Live till tomorrow, will have passed away. 

— CowPBR, Needless Alarm. 


My country is the world, and my religion is to do good. 

— ^Painb, Rights of Man, 

Trade it^ may help, society extend, 

But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend: 

It raises armies in a nation's aid. 

But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd. 

— PoFB, Moral Essays. 

O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal 
away their brains! — Shakbspbakb, Oihello. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 
How charged with punishment the scroll, 
I am the master of my fate, 
I am the captain of my soul. 

— ^Hbnlbt, ItwiOus. 

The world is so full of a number of things, 
I am sure we should all be happy as kings. 

— Stevenson, A Child's Garden of Verses. 

If your morals are dreary, depend upon it they are wrong. 

— Stevenson, Essays. 

Every advantage has its tax. I learn to be content. 

— ^BicE&soN, Essays. 

8. Make a two-minute speech on any of the following 
general subjects, but you will find that your ideas will 
come more readily if you narrow your subject by taking 
some specific phase of it. For instance, instead of trying 
to speak on ''Law" in general, take the proposition, 
"The Poor Man Cannot Afford to Prosecute;" or in- 
stead of dwelling on "Leisure," show how modem speed 
b creating more leisure. In this way you may expand 
this subject list indefinitely. 







Woman's Suffrage. 

Initiative and Referendum. 

A Lai:ger Navy. 



Foreign Immigration. 

The Liquor Traffic. 

Labor Unions. 



Single Tax. 























The Par East. 






Child Labor. 



The Theater. 





Public Speaking. 



The Most Dramatic Moment of 

My Life. 
My Happiest Days. 
Things Worth While. 
What I Hope to Achieve. 
My Greatest Desire. 
What I Would Do with a Million 

Is Mankind Progressing? 
Our Greatest Need. 





Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches 
The innermost recesses of my spirit! 

— Longfellow, Christus. 

Tlie dramatic critic of The London Times once declared 
that acting is nine-tenths voice work. Leaving the 
message aside, the same may justly be said of public 
speaking. A rich, correctly-used voice is the greatest 
physical factor of persuasiveness and power, often over- 
tc^ping the effects of reason. 

But a good voice, well handled, is not only an effective 
possession for the professional speaker, it is a mark of per- 
sonal culture as well, and even a distinct conmierdal 
asset. Gladstone, himself the possessor of a deep, musi- 
cal voice, has said: "Ninety men in every hundred in the 
crowded professions will probably never rise above medi- 
ocrity because the training of the voice is entirely n^lected 
and considered of no importance." These are words worth 

There are three fundamental requisites for a good voice: 

I. Ease 

Signor Bond of the Metropolitan Opera Company says 
that the secret of good voice is relaxation; and this is true, 
for relaxation is the basis of ease. The air waves that pro- 
duce voice result in a different kind of tone when striking 


against relaxed muscles than when striking constricted 
muscles. Try this for yourself. Contract the muscles of 
your face and throat as you do in hate, and flame out "I 
hate you!" Now relax as you do when thinking gentle, 
tender thoughts, and say, "I love you." How different 
the voice sounds. 

In practising voice exercises, and in speaking, never 
force your tones. Ease must be your watchword. The 
voice is a delicate instrument, and you must not handle it 
with hammer and tongs. Don't make your voice go — let 
it go. Don't work. Let the yoke of speech be easy and 
its burden light. 

Your throat should be free from strain during speech, 
therefore it is necessary to avoid muscular contraction. 
The throat must act as a sort of chimney or funnel for the 
voice, hence any unnatural constriction will not only harm 
its tones but injure its health. 

Nervousness and mental strain are common sources 
of mouth and throat constriction, so make the battle for 
poise and self-confidence for which we pleaded in the 
opening chapter. 

But how can I relax? you ask. By simply willing to 
relax. Hold your arm out straight from your shoulder. 
Now — ^vrfthdraw all power ^d let it fall. Practise re- 
laxation of the miiscles of the throat by letting your neck 
and head fall forward. Roll the upper part of your body 
aroimd, with the waist Une acting as a pivot. Let your 
head fall and roll around as you shift the torso to different 
positions. Do not force your head around — simply relax 
your neck and let gravitypull itaround as your body moves. 



Again, let your head fall forward on your breast; raise 
your head, letting your jaw hang. Relax until your jaw 
feels heavy, as though it were a weight hung to your face. 
Remember, you must relax the jaw to obtain command of 
it. It must be free and flexible for the moulding of tone, 
and to let the tone pass out imobstructed. 

The lips also must be made flexible, to aid in the mould- 
ing of clear and beautiful tones. For flexibility of lips 
repeat the syllables, mo — me. In saying mo, bring the 
lips up to resemble the shape of the letter O. In rq>eating 
me, draw them back as you do in a grin. Repeat this ex- 
ercise rapidly, giving the lips as much exercise as possible. 

Try the following exercise in the same manner: 

Mo— E^-0— E— 00— Ah. 

After this exercise has been mastered, the following 
will also be foimd excellent for flexibility of lips: 

Memorize these sounds indicated (not the expressions) 
so that you can repeat them rapidly. 

A as in 


E as 

A " 


I " 

A " 


I " 




A " 


00 " 

E " 


00 " 






U as in Use. 
Oi " Ofl. 

Ou " 
00 " 
A " 



All the activity of breathing must be centered, not in 
the throat, but in the middle of the body— you must 
breathe from the diaphragm. Note the way you breathe 


when lying fiat on the back, undressed in bed. You will 
observe that all the activity then centers around the dia- 
phragm. This is the natural and correct method of 
breathing. By constant watchfulness make this your 
habitual manner, for it will enable you to relax more per- 
fectly the muscles of the throat. 
The next fundamental requisite for good voice is 

2. Openness 

If the muscles of the throat are constricted, the tone 
passage partially closed, and the mouth kept half-shut, 
how can you expect the tone to come out bright and clear, 
or even to come out at all? Sound is a series of waves, 
and if you make a prison of your mouth, holding the jaws 
and lips rigidly, it wiU be very difficult for the tone to 
squeeze through, and even when it does escape it will lack 
force and carrying power. Open your mouth wide, relax 
all the organs of speech, and let the tone flow out easily. 

Start to yawn, but instead of yawning, speak wlule your 
throat is open. Make this open-feeling habitual when 
speaking — ^we say make because it is a matter of resolu- 
tion and of practise, if your vocal organs are healthy. 
Your tone passages may be partly closed by enlarged ton- 
sils, adenoids, or enlarged turbinate bones of the nose. 
If so, a skilled physician should be consulted. 

Tlie nose is an important tone passage and should be 
k^t open and free for perfect tones. What we call "talk- 
ing through the nose" is not talking through the nose, as 
you can easily d#nonstrate by holding your nose as you 


talk. If you are bothered with nasal tones caused by 
growths or swellings in the nasal passages, a slight, pain- 
less operation will remove the obstruction. This is quite 
important, aside from voice, for the general health will be 
much lowered if the lungs are continually starved for air. 
The final fundamental requisite for good voice is 

J. Forwardness 

A voice that is pitched back in the throat is dark, som- 
bre, and unattractive. The tone must be pitched forward, 
but do not force it forward. You will recall that our first 
principle was ease. Think the tone forward and out Be- 
lieve it is going forward, and allow it to flow easily. You 
can tell whether you are placing your tone forward or not 
by inVialing a deep breath and singing ah with the mouth 
wide open, trying to fed the little delicate sound waves 
strike the bony arch of the mouth just above the front 
teeth. The sensation is so slight that you will probably 
not be able to detect it at once, but persevere in yoxxr prac- 
tise, always thinlring the tone forward, and you will be 
rewarded by feeling your voice strike the roof of 3rour 
mouth. A correct forward-placing of the tone will do 
away with the dark, throaty tones that are so unpleasant, 
inefficient, and harmful to the throat. 

Close the lips, hunmiing n;, im; or an. Think the tone 
forward. Do you fed it strike the lips? 

Hold the palm of your hand in front of your face and say 
vigorously crash, dash, whirl, buzz. Can you fed the for- 
ward tones strike against your hand? Practise until you 


can. Remember, the only way to get your voice for- 
ward is to put it forward. 

How to Develop the Carrying Power of the Voice 

It is not necessary to speak loudly in order to be heard 
at a distance. It is necessary only to speak correctly. 
Edith W3mne Matthison's voice will carry in a whisper 
throughout a large theater. A paper rustling on the stage 
of a large auditorium can be heard distinctly in the further- 
most seat in the gallery. If you will only use your voice 
correctly, you will not have much difficulty in being heard. 
Of course it is always well to address your speech to your 
furthest auditors; if they get it, those nearer will have 
no trouble, but aside from this obvious suggestion, you 
must observe these laws of voice production: 

Remember to apply the principles of ease, openness and 
forwardness — ^they are the prime factors in enabling your 
voice to be heard at a distance. 

Do not gaze at the floor as you talk. This habit not 
only gives the speaker an amateurish appearance but if the 
head is hung forward the voice will be directed towards the 
ground instead of floating out over the audience. 

Voice is a series of air vibrations. To strengthen it 
two things are necessary: more air or breath, and more 

Breath is the very basis of voice. As a bullet mth little 
powder behind it will not have force and carr3dng power, 
so the voice that has little breath behind it will be weak. 
Not only will deep breathing — breathing from the dia- 


phragm — give the voice a better support, but it will give 
it a stronger resonance by improving the general health. 

Usually, ill health means a weak voice, while abundant 
physical vitality is shown through a strong, vibrant voice. 
Therefore anything that improves the general vitality is 
an excellent voice strengthener, provided you use the voice 
properly. Authorities differ on most of the rules of hy- 
giene but on one point they all agree: vitality and longevity 
are increased by deep breathing. Practise this until it 
becomes second nature. Whenever you are speaking, 
take in deep breaths, but in such a manner that the in- 
halations will be silent. 

Do not try to speak too long without renewing your 
breath. Nature cares for this pretty well unconsciously in 
conversation, and she will do the same for you in platform 
speaking if you do not interfere with her premonitions. 

A certain very successful speaker developed voice carry- 
ing power by running across country, practising his 
speeches as he went. The vigorous exercise forced him 
to take deep breaths, and developed limg power. A hard- 
fought basketball or tennis game is an efficient way of 
practising deep breathing. When these methods are not 
convenient, we recommend the following: 

Place your hands at your sides, on the waist line. 

By tr3ang to encompass your waist with your fingers 
and thumbs, force all the air out of the lungs. 

Take a deep breath. Remember, all the activity is to 
be centered in the middle of the body; do not raise the 
shoulders. As the breath is taken your hands will be 
forced out. 


Repeat the exerdse, placing your hands on the small 
of the back and forcing them out as you inhale. 

Many methods for deep breathing have been given by 
various authorities. Get the air into your lungs — ^that is 
the important thing. 

The body acts as a sounding board for the voice just 
as the body of the violin acts as a sounding board for its 
tones. You can increase its vibrations by practise. 

Place your finger on your lip and hum the musical scale, 
thi n king and placing the voice forward on the lips. Do 
you fed the lips vibrate? After a little practise they will 
vibrate, giving a tickling sensation. 

Repeat this ezerdse, throwing the humming sound into 
the nose. Hold the upper part of the nose between the 
thumb and forefinger. Can you fed the nose vibrate? 

Placing the palm of your hand on top of your head, re- 
peat this hiunming exercise. Think the voice there as you 
hum in head tones. Can you feel the vibration there? 

Now place the palm of your hand on the back of your 
head, repeating the foregoing process. Then try it on the 
chest. Always remember to think your tone where you 
desire to fed the vibrations. The mere act of thinking 
about any portion of your body will tend to make it 

Repeat the foUovnng, after a deep inhalation, endeavor- 
ing to fed all portions of your body vibrate at the same 
time. When you have attained this you will find that it 
is a pleasant sensation. 

What ho, my jovial mates. Come on! We will frolic it like 
fairies, frisking in the merry moonshine. 


PurUy of Voice 

This qtiality is sometimes destroyed by wasting the 
breath. Carefully control the breath, using only as much 
as is necessary for the production of tone. Utilize all that 
you give out. Failure to do this results in a breathy tone. 
Take in breath like a prodigal; in speaking, give it out 
like a miser. 

Voice Suggestions 

Never attempt to force your voice when hoarse. 

Do not drink cold water when speaking. The sudden 
shock to the heated organs of speech will injure the voice. 

Avoid pitching your voice too high — it will make it 
raspy. This is a common fault. When you find your 
voice in too high a range, lower it. Do not wait until you 
get to the platform to try this. Practise it in your daily 
conversation. Repeat the alphabet, beginning A on the 
lowest scale possible and going up a note on each suc- 
ceeding letter, for the development of range. A wide range 
will give you facility in making numerous changes of 

Do not form the habit of listening to your voice when 
speaking. You will need your brain to think of what you 
are saying — ^reserve your observation for private practise. 


1. What are the prime requisites for good voice? 

2. Tell why each one is necessary for good voice pro- 


3. Give some exercises for devdopment of these con- 

4. Why is range of voice desirable? 

5. Tell how range of voice may be cultivated 

6. How much daily practise do you consider necessary 
for the proper development of your voice? 

7. How can resonance and carrying power be de- 

8. What are your voice faults? 

9. How are you trying to correct them? 



A cheerful temper joined with innocenoe will make beaut7 
attractive, knowledge deUghtfuI, and wit good-natured. 

JOSEPH Addison, The TaMer. 

Poe said that "the tone of beauty b sadness/' but he 
was evidently thinking from cause to effect, not con- 
trariwise, for sadness is rarely a producer of beauty — 
that is peculiarly the province of joy. 

The exquisite beauty of a sunset is not exhilarating but 
tends to a sort of melancholy that is not far from delight. 
The haunting beauty of deep, quiet music holds more than 
a tinge of sadness. The lovely minor cadences of bird 
song at twilight are almost depressing. 

The reason we are affected to sadness by certain forms 
of pladd beauty is twofold: movement is stimulating and 
joy-producing, while quietude leads to reflection, and re- 
flection in turn often brings out the tone of r^retful 
longing for that which is past; secondly, quiet beauty 
produces a vague aspiration for the relatively unattain- 
able, yet does not stimulate to the tremendous effort 
necessary to make the dimly desired state or object ours. 

We must distinguish, for these reasons, between the 
sadness of beauty and the joy of beauty. True, joy is a 
deep, inner thing and takes in much more than the idea 
of bounding, sanguine spirits, for it includes a certain 
active contentedness of heart. In this chapter, however, 


the word will have its optimistic, exuberant connotation — 
we are thinking now of vivid, bright-eyed, laughing joy. 
Musical, joyous tones constitute voice charm, a sub- 
tie magnetism that is delightfully contagious. Now it 
might seem to the desultory reader that to take the lancet 
and cut into this alluring voice quality would be to dissect 
a butterfly wing and so destroy its charm. Yet how can 
we induce an effect if we are not certain as to the cause? 

Nasal Resonance Produces the Bdl-Umes of the Voice 

The tone passages of the nose must be kept entirely 
free for the bright tones of voice — and after our warning 
in the preceding chapter you will not confuse what is 
popularly and erroneously called a ''nasal" tone with the 
true nasal quaMty, which is so well illustrated by the 
voice work of trained French singers and speakers. 

To develop nasal resonance sing the following, dwelling 
as long as possible on the ng sounds. Pitch the voice in 
the nasal cavity. Practise both in high and low regis- 
ters, and develop range— tw<A brightness. 

Sing-song. Ding-dong. Hong-kong. Long-thong. 

Practise in the falsetto voice develops a bright quaUty 
in the normal speaking-voice. Try the following, and 
any other selections you choose, in a falsetto voice. A 
man's falsetto voice is extremely high and womanish, 
so men should not practise in falsetto after the exercise 
becomes tiresome. 

She perfectly scorned the best of his dan, and declared the 
ninth of any man, a perfectly vulgar fraction. 



The actress Mary Anderson asked the poet Long- 
fellow what she could do to improve her voice. He re- 
plied, ^'Read aloud daily, joyous, l3nic poetry." 

The joyous tones are the bright tones. Develop them 
by exercise. Practise your voice exercises in an attitude 
of joy. Under the influence of pleasure the body expands, 
the tone passages open, the action of heart and lungs is 
accelerated, and all the primary conditions for good tone 
are established. 

More songs float out from the broken windows of the 
n^ro cabins in the South than from the palatial homes 
on Fifth Avenue. Henry Ward Beecher said the lum- 
piest days of his life were not when he had become an 
international character, but when he was an unknown 
minister out in Lawrenceville, Ohio, sweeping his own 
church, and working as a carpenter to help pay the 
grocer. Happiness is largely an attitude of mind, of view- 
ing life from the right angle. The optimistic attitude can 
be cultivated, and it will express itself in voice charm. 
A telephone company recently placarded this motto in 
their booths: "The Voice with the Smile Wins." It 
does. Try it. 

Reading joyous prose, or lyric poetry, will help put 
smile and joy of soul into your voice. The following selec- 
tions are excellent for practise. 

REMEMBER that when you first practise these classics 
you are to give sole attention to two things: a joyous 
attitude of heart and body, and bright tones of voice. 
After these ends have been attained to your satisfaction, 
carefidly review the principles of pubUc speaking laid 




down in the preceding chapters and put them into practise 
as you read these passages again and again. // would be 
better to commit each selection to memory. 



Haste thee, N3rmph, and bring with thee 
Jest, and youthful Jollity, 
Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles, 
Nods and Becks, and wreathM Smiles, 
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
And love to live in dimple sleek, — 
Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 
And Laughter holding both his sides. 

Come, and trip it as ye go 

On the light fantastic toe; 

And in thy right hand lead with thee 

The moimtain nymph, sweet Liberty: 

And, if I give thee honor due, 

Mirth, admit me of thy crew. 

To live with her, and live with thee, 

In unreprovM pleasures free; 

To hear the lark begin his flight. 
And singing, startle the dull Night 
Prom his watch-tower in the skies. 
Tin the dappled Dawn doth rise; 
Then to come in spite of sorrow. 
And at my window bid good-morrow 
Through the sweetbrier, or the vine. 
Or the twisted ^lantine; 
While the cock with lively din 
Scatters the rear of darkness thin. 
And to the stack, or the barn-door. 
Stoutly struts his dames before; 


Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
Cheerly rouse the slumbering Mom, 
Prom the side of some hoar hill, 
Through the high wood echoing shrill; 
Sometime walking, not unseen, 
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green. 
Right against the eastern gate, 
Where the great Sun b^^ his state, 
Robed in flames and amber light. 
The clouds in thousand liveries dight, 
While the plowman near at hand 
Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 
And the milkmaid singing blithe, 
And the mower whets his scjrthe. 
And every shepherd teUs his tale, 
Under the hawthorn in the dale. 


The sea, the sea, the open sea. 

The blue, the fresh, the ever free; 

Without a mark, without a bound. 

It runneth the earth's wide r^ons round; 

It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies, 

Or like a cradled creature lies. 

I'm on the sea, I'm on the sea, 

I am where I would ever be, 

With the blue above and the blue below. 

And silence wheresoe'er I go. 

If a storm should come and awake the deep, 

What matter? I shall ride and sleep. 

I love, oh! how I love to ride 
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide. 
Where every mad wave drowns the moon. 
And whistles aloft its tempest tune. 
And tells how goeth the world below. 
And why the southwest wind doth blow! 
I never was on the dull, tame shore 


But I loved the great sea more and more, 
And backward flew to her billowy breast, 
Like a bird that seeketh her mother's nest, — 
And a mother she was and is to me, 
For I was bom on the open sea. 

The waves were white, and red the mom. 
In the noisy hour when I was bom; 
The whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, 
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold; 
And never was heard such an outcry wild, 
As welcomed to life the ocean child. 
I have lived, since then, in calm and strife, 
Pull fifty summers a rover's life. 
With wealth to spend, and a power to range, 
But never have sought or sighed for change: 
And death, whenever he comes to me. 
Shall come on the wide, unbounded sea! 

— ^Barrt Cornwall. 

Thb sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the 
wide world's joy. The lonely pine upon the mountain-top waves 
its sombre boughs, and cries, " Thou art my stm." And the little 
meadow violet lifts its cup of blue, and whispers with its perfumed 
breath, "Thou art my sun." And the grain in a thousand fields 
rustles in the wind, and makes answer, ''Thou art my sun." 
And so God sits effulgent in Heaven, not for a favored few, but 
for the universe of life; and there is no creature so poor or so low 
that he may not look up with child-like confidence and say, " My 
Patherl Thou art mine." — ^Hbnry Ward Beechbr. 


Bird of the wilderness, 

Blithesome and cumberless, 
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! 

Emblem of happiness. 

Blest is thy dwelling-place: 
Oh, to abide in the desert with thee! 


Wild is thy lay, and loud, 

Par in the downy doud, — 
Love gives it energy; love gave it birth. 

Where, on thy dewy wing 

Where art thou joume3nng? 
Thy lay is in heaven ; thy love is on earth. 

O'er fell and fountain sheen, 

O'er moor and mountain green, 
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day; 

Over the cloudlet dim, 

Over the rainbow's rim, 
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away! 

Then, when the gloaming comes. 

Low in the heather blooms, 
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! 

Emblem of happiness. 

Blest is thy dwelling-place. 
Oh, to abide in the desert with thee! 

— ^Jambs Hogg. 

In joyous conversation there is an elastic touch, a deli- 
cate stroke, upon the central ideas, generally following 
a pause. This elastic touch adds vivacity to the voice. 
If you try repeatedly, it can be sensed by feeling the tongue 
strike the teeth. The entire absence of elastic touch in 
the voice can be observed in the thick tongue of the in- 
toxicated man. Try to talk with the tongue lying still 
in the bottom of the mouth, and you will obtain laigdy 
the same effect. Vivacity of utterance is gained by using 
the tongue to strike off the emphatic idea with a de- 
cisive, elastic touch. 

Deliver the following with decisive strokes on tlie 
emphatic ideas. Deliver it in a vivacious manner, 
noting the elastic touch-action of the tongue. A flexible, 


responsive tongue is absolutely essential to good voice 



What have you done with that brilliant Prance which I left 
you? I left you at peace, and I find you at war. I left you 
victorious, and I find you defeated. I left you the millions of 
Italy, and I find only spoliation and poverty. What have you 
done with the hundred thousand Frenchmen, my companions 
in glory? They are dead! . . . This state of affairs cannot 
last long; in less than three years it would plunge us into des- 

Practise the following selection, for the development 
of elastic touch; say it in a joyous spirit, using the exer- 
cise to develop voice charm in all the ways suggested in 
this chapter. 


I come from haimts of coot and hem, 

I make a sudden sally, 
And sparkle out among the fern, 

To bicker down a valley. 

By thirty hills I hurry down, 

Or slip between the ridges; 
By twenty thorps, a little town, 

And half a hundred bridges. 

TiU last by Philip's farm I flow 

To join the brimming river; 
For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on forever. 

I chatter over stony ways, 
In Uttle sharps and trebles. 


I bubble into eddying bays, 
I babble on the pebbles. 

With many a curve my banks I fret, 
By many a field and fallow, 

And many a fairy foreland set 

With willow-weed and mallow. 

I chatter, chatter, as I flow 
To join the brimming river; 

For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 

I wind about, and in and out. 
With here a blossom sailing, 

And here and there a lusty trout. 
And here and there a grayling. 

And here and there a foamy flake 
Upon me, as I travel. 

With many a silvery water-break 
Above the golden gravel. 

And draw them all along, and flow 
To join the brimming river. 

For men may come and men may go. 
But I go on forever. 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 
I slide by hazel covers, 

I move the sweet forget-me-nots 
That grow for happy lovers. 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance. 
Among my skimming swallows; 

I make the netted sunbeam dance 
Against my sandy shallows. 

I mtumur under moon and stars 
In brambly wildernesses. 


I linger by my shingly bars, 
I loiter round my cresses. 

And out again I curve and flow 

To join the brimming river; 
For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on forever. 

— ^Alfred Tennyson. 

The children at play on the street, glad from sheer 
physical vitaUty, display a resonance and charm in their 
voices quite different from the voices that float through 
the silent halls of the hospitals. A skilled physician can 
tell much about his patient's condition from the mere 
sound of the voice. Failing health, or even physical 
weariness, tells through the voice. It is alwa3rs well to rest 
and be entirely refreshed before attempting to deUver a 
public address. As to health, neither scope nor space 
permits us to discuss here the laws of hygiene. There are 
many excellent books on this subject. In the reign of the 
Roman emperor Tiberius, one senator wrote to another: 
'*To the wise, a word is suflident." 

''The apparel oft proclaims the man;" the voice al- 
ways does — it is one of the greatest revealers of character. 
The superficial woman, the brutish man, the reprobate, 
the person of culture, often discloses inner nature in the 
voice, for even the cleverest dissembler cannot entirely 
prevent its tones and qualities being affected by the 
slightest change of thought or emotion. In anger it be- 
comes high, harsh, and unpleasant; in love low, soft, and 
melodious — ^the variations are as limitless as they are 
fascinating to observe. Visit a theatrical hotel in a large 


dty, and listen to the buzz-saw voices of the chorus giris 
from some burlesque ''attraction." The explanation is 
simple — ^buzz-saw lives. Emerson said: "When a man 
lives with God his voice shall be as sweet as the murmur 
of the brook or the rustle of the com." It is impossible 
to ;^think selfish thoughts and have either an attractive 
personality, a lovely character, or a charming voice. If 
you want to possess voice charm, cultivate a deep, sincere 
sympathy for mankind. Love will shine out through your 
eyes and proclaim itself in your tones. One secret of 
the sweetness of the canary's song may be his freedom from 
tainted thoughts. Your character beautifies or mars 
your voice. As a man thinketh in his heart so is his voice. 


I. Define (a) charm; (fi) joy; (c) beauty. 
3. Make a list of all the words related to j0y. 

3. Write a three-minute eulogy of "The Joyful Man." 

4. Deliver it without the use of notes. Have you care- 
fully considered all the qualities that go to make up 
voice-charm in its delivery? 

5. Tell briefly in your own words what means may be 
employed to develop a charming voice. 

6. Discuss the effect of voice on character. 

7. Discuss the effect of character on voice. 

8. Analyze the voice charm of any speaker or singer 
you choose. 

9. Analyze the defects of any given voice. 

10. Make a short himiorous speech imitating certain 
voice defects, pointing out reasons. 


II* Commit the following stanza and interpret each 
phase]|of Jdeiight stiggested or expressed by the poet. 

An infant when it gazes on a light, 

A child the moment when it drains the breast, 

A devotee when soars the Host in sight, 
An Arab with a stranger foe a guest, 

A sailor when the prize has struck in fight, 
A miser filling his most hoarded chest, 

Peel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping 

As they who watch o'er what they love while 

— ^Byron, Don Juan. 



In man speaks God. 

— Hbsiod, Words and Days. 

And endless are the modes of speech, and far 
Extends from side to side the field of words. 

— HoifBR, Iliad. 

In popular usage the terms '^ pronunciation/' "enun- 
ciation," and '^ articulation" are s3monymous, but real 
pronunciation includes three distinct processes, and may 
therefore be defined as, ^he uUerance of a syllable or a 
group of syllables with regard to arliculatioHy accentuaUon^ 
and enunciation. 

Distinct and precise utterance is one of the most im- 
portant considerations of public speech. How preposter- 
ous it is to hear a speaker making sounds of "inarticulate 
earnestness" under the contented delusion that he is 
telling something to his audience! Telling? Telling 
means communicating, and how can he actually com- 
municate without making every word distinct? 

Slovenly pronunciation results from either physical 
deformity or habit. A surgeon or a surgeon dentist may 
correct a deformity, but yoiu* own will, working by self- 
observation and resolution in drill, will break a habit. 
All depends upon whether you think it worth while. 

Defective speech is so wide^read that freedom from 
it is the exception. It is painfully common to hear pubUc 


speakers mutilate the king's English. If they do not 
actually murder it, as Curran once said, they often knock 
an i out. 

A Canadian clergyman, writing in the HomUetic Review, 
relates that in his student days ''a classmate who was an 
Englishman supplied a country church for a Sunday. On 
the following Monday he conducted a missionary meeting. 
In the course of his address he said some farmers thought 
they were doing their duty toward missions when they 
gave their 'hodds and hends' to the work, but the Lord 
required more. At the close of the meeting a young woman 
seriously said to a friend: 'I am sure the farmers do well 
if they give their hogs and hens to missions. It is more 
than most people can afford.' " 

It is insufferable effrontery for any man to appear be- 
fore an audience who persists in driving the h out of hap- 
piness, home and heaven, and, to paraphrase Waldo 
Messaros, will not let it rest in hell. He who does not 
show enough self-knowledge to see in himself such glaring 
faults, nor enough self-mastery to correct them, has no 
business to instruct others. If he can do no better, he 
should be silent. If he wiU do no better, he should also 
be sUent. 

Barring incurable physical defects — ^and few are in- 
curable nowadays — the whole matter is one of will. The 
catalogue of those who have done the impossible by 
faithful work is as inspiring as a roll-call of warriors. 
The less there is of you," sa)rs Nathan Sheppard, "the 
more need for you to make the most of what there is 
of you." 



Articulation is the forming and joining of the elementary 
soimds of speech. It seems an appallii^ task to utter 
articulately the third-of-a million words that go to make 
up our English vocabulary, but the way to make a be- 
ginning is really simple: learn to uUer correctly , and with 
easy change from one to the other, each of the forty-four 
elementary sounds in our language. 

The reasons why articidation is so painfully slurred by 
a great many public speakers are four: ignorance of 
the elemental sounds; failure to discriminate between 
sounds nearly alike; a slovenly, lazy use of the vocal 
organs; and a torpid will. Anyone who is still master 
of himself will know how to handle each of these 

The vowel sounds are the most vexing source of errors, 
especially where diphthongs are found. Who has not 
heard such errors as are hit off in this inimitable verse by 
Oliver Wendell Holmes: 

Learning condemns beyond the reach of hope 
The careless lips that si>eak of sdap for soap; 
Her edict exiles from her fair abode 
The clownish voice that utters r6ad for road; 
Less stem to him who calls his coat, a cOat 
And steers Mb boat beUeving it a b6at. 
She pardoned one, our classic city's boast. 
Who said at Cambridge, mOst instead of mdst. 
But knit her brows and stamped her angry foot 
To hear a Teacher caU a r50t a rd6t. 

The foregoing examples are all monosyllables, but bad 
articulation is frequently the result of joining sounds that 


do not belong together. For example, no one finds it 
difficult to say beaulyy but many persist in pronoundng 
duty as though it were spelled either dooty or jidy. It 
is not only from untaught speakers that we hear such 
slovenly articulations as colyum for column^ and priUy 
lot preUy, but even great orators occasionally offend quite 
as unblushingly as less noted mortals. 

Nearly all such are errors of carelessness, not of pure 
ignorance — of carelessness because the ear never tries 
to hear what the lips articulate. It must be exasperating 
to a foreigner to find that the elemental soimd ou gives 
him no hint for the prommdation of boughy cough, rough, 
thorough, and through, and we can well forgive even a man 
of culture who occasionally loses his way amidst the in- 
tricacies of English articulation, but there can be no ex- 
cuse for the slovenly utterance of the simple vowel soimds 
which form at once the life and the beauty of our language. 
He who is too lazy to speak distinctly should hold his 

The consonant sounds occasion serious trouble only for 
those who do not look with care at the spelling of words 
about to be pronounced. Nothing but carelessness can 
account for saying Jacop, Babiist, sevem, alwus, or sadisfy. 

"He that hath yaws to yaw, let him yaw," is the ren- 
dering which an Anglophobiac clergyman gave of the 
familiar scripture, "He that hath ears to hear, let him 
hear." After hearing the name of Sir Humphry Davy 
pronoimced, a Frenchman who wished to write to the 
eminent Englishman thus addressed the letter: "Serum 



Accentuation is the stressing of the proper syllables 
in words. This it is that is popularly called pronuncia- 
tion. For instance, we properly say that a word b mis- 
pronounced when it is accented iW-vite instead of in-vite^ 
though it is really an ofiFense against only one form of 
pronunciation — accentuation. 

It is the work of a lifetime to learn the accents of a large 
vocabulary and to keep pace with changing usage; but 
an alert ear, the study of word-origins, and the dictionary 
habit, will prove to be mighty helpers in a task that can 
never be finally completed. 


Correct enimciation is the complete utterance of all 
the sounds of a syllable or a word. Wrong articulation 
gives the wrong sound to the vowel or vowels of a word or 
a syllable, as doo for dew; or unites two soimds improp- 
erly, as huUy for wholly. Wrong enunciation is the 
incomplete utterance of a syllable or a word, the sound 
omitted or added being usually consonantal. To say 
needcessity instead of necessity is a wrong articulation; to 
say doin for doing is improper enimciation. The one ar- 
ticulates — that is, joints — two sounds that should not be 
joined, and thus gives the word a positively wrong 
sound; the other fails to touch all the sounds in the 
word, and in that particular way also sounds the word 

"My tex* may be foun' in the fif ' and six' verses of the 


secon' chapter of Titus; and the subjec' of my discourse 
is *The Government of ar Homes/ "^ 

What did this preacher do with his final consonants? 
This slovenly dropping of essential soimds is as offensive 
as the conmion habit of running words together so that 
they lose their individuality and distinctness. Lighten 
dark, uppen donvn, doncher know, particular, zamination, 
are all too common to need comment. 

Imperfect enunciation is due to lack of attention and 
to lazy lips. It can be corrected by resolutely attending 
to the formation of syllables as they are uttered. Flexi- 
ble lips will enunciate difficult combinations of sounds 
without slighting any of them, but such flexibility can- 
not be attained except by habitually uttering words with 
distinctness and accuracy. A daily exercise in enimciat- 
ing a series of sounds will in a short time give flexibility 
to the lips and alertness to the mind, so that no word will 
be uttered without receiving its due complement of sound. 

Returning to our definition, we see that when the sounds 
of a word are properly articulated, the right syllables 
accented, and full value given to each sound in its enun- 
ciation, we have correct pronunciation. Perhaps one word 
of caution is needed here, lest any one, anxious to bring 
out clearly every soimd, should overdo the matter and 
n^lect the unity and smoothness of prommdation. Be 
careful not to bring syllables into so much prominence 
as to make words seem long and angular. The joints 
must be kept decently dressed. 

Before delivery, do not fail to go over your manu- 

^School and ColUffe Sp^ker, Miteh«U. 


8crq>t and note every sound that may possibly be mis- 
pronounced. Consult the dictionary and make assurance 
doubly sure. If the arrangement of words is unfavor- 
able to dear enunciation^ change either words or order, 
and do not rest until you can follow Hamlet's directions 
to the players. 


1. Practise repeating the following rapidly, paying 
particular attention to the consonants. 

"Foolish Flavius, flushing feverishly, fiercely found fault with 
Flora's frivoUty.*" 

Mary's matchless mimicry makes much mischief. 

Seated on shining shale she sells sea shells. 

You youngsters yielded your youthful yule-tide yearnings 

2. Sound the / in each of the following words, repeated 
in sequence: 

Blue black blinkers blocked Black Blondin's eyes. 

3. Do you say a bloo sky or a blue sky? 

4. Compare the u sound in few and in new. Say each 
aloudy and dedde which is correct, Noo York^ New Yawky 
or New York? 

5. Pay careful heed to the directions of this chapter 
in reading the following, from Hamlet. After the inter- 
view with the ghost of his father, Hamlet tells his friends 
Horatio and Marcellus that he intends to act a part: 

Horatio, O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! 
Hamlei, And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. 

^Sekool and CMtQ9 Svakv, Mitehall. 


There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 

But come; 

Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, 

How strange or odd so'er I bear myself, — 

As I perchance hereafter shall think meet 

To put an antic disposition on, — 

That you, at such times seeing me, never shall. 

With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake. 

Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase. 

As "Well, well, we know," or "We could, an if we would," 

Or "If we list to speak," or "There be, an if there might," 

Or such ambiguous giving-out, to note 

That you know aught of me: this not to do. 

So grace and mercy at your most need help you, 


—Act /. Scene V. 

6. Make a list of common errors of pronunciation, 
saying which are due to faulty articulation, wrong ac- 
centuation, and incomplete enunciation. In each case 
make the correction. 

7. Criticise any speech you may have heard which 
displayed these faults. 

8. Explain how the false shame of seeming to be too 
precise may hinder us from cultivating perfect verbal 

9. Over-precision is likewise a fault. To bring out 
any syllable unduly is to caricature the word. Be moder- 
aU in reading the following: 



The enemies of the Republic call me tyrant ! Were I such they 
would grovel at my feet. I should gorge them with gold, I should 


grant them immunity for their crimes, and they would be grate- 
ful. Were I such, the kings we have vanquished, far from de- 
nouncing Robespierre, would lend me their guilty support; there 
would be a covenant between them and me. Tyranny must 
have tools. But the enemies of tyranny, — ^whither does their 
path tend? To the tomb, and to immortality! What tyrant is 
my protector? To what faction do I belong? Yourselves! What 
faction, since the beginning of the Revolution, has crushed and 
annihilated so many detected traitors? You, the people, — our 
principles — are that faction — ^a faction to which I am devoted, 
and against which all the scoundrelism of the day is banded! 

The confirmation of the Republic has been my object; and I 
know that the Republic can be established only on the eternal 
basis of morality. Against me, and against those who hold 
kindred principles, the league is formed. My life? Oh! my life 
I abandon without a regret! I have seen the past; and I foresee 
the future. What friend of this country would wish to survive 
the moment when he could no longer serve it, — when he could 
no longer defend innocence against oppression? Wherefore 
should I continue in an order of things, where intrigue eternally 
triiunphs over truth; where justice is mocked; where passions 
the most abject, or fears the most absurd, over-ride the sacred 
interests of humanity ? In witnessing the multitude of vices which 
the torrent of the Revolution has rolled in turbid communion 
with its civic virtues, I confess that I have sometimes feared that 
I should be sullied, in the eyes of posterity, by the impure neigh- 
borhood of unprincipled men, who had thrust themselves into 
association with the sincere friends of humanity; and I rejoice 
that these conspirators against my country have now, by their 
reckless rage, traced deep the line of demarcation between them- 
selves and all true men. 

Question history, and learn how all the defenders of liberty, 
in all times, have been overwhelmed by calumny. But their 
traducers died also. The good and the bad disappear alike from 
the earth; but in very different conditions. O Frenchmen! O 
my countrymen! Let not your enemies, with their desolating 
doctrines, degrade your souls, and enervate your virtues! No, 
Chaumette, no! Death is not "an eternal sleep!" Citizens! 
efface from the tomb that motto, graven by sacrilegious hands. 


which spreads over all nature a funereal crape, takes from op- 
pressed innocence its support, and affronts the beneficent dis- 
pensation of death! Inscribe rather thereon these words: ''Death 
is the commencement of immortality! " I leave to the oppressors 
of the People a terrible testament, which I proclaim with the in- 
dependence befitting one whose career is so nearly ended; it is 
the awful truth— "Thou shalt die!" 



When Whitefield acted an old blind man advancing by slow 
steps toward the edge of the precipice, Lord Chesterfield started 
up and cried: "Good God, he is gone!" 

— Nathan Shbppard, Before an Audience, 

Gesture is really a simple matter that requires observa- 
tion and common sense rather than a book of rules. Ges- 
ture is an outward expression of an inward condition. It 
is merely an effect — the effect of a mental or an emotional 
impulse struggling for expression through ph3rsical avenues. 

You must not, however, begin at the wrong end: if you 
are troubled by your gestures, or a lack of gestures, attend 
to the cause, not the efifect. It will not in the least help 
matters to tack on to your delivery a few mechanical 
movements. If the tree in your front yard is not growing 
to suit you, fertilize and water the soil and let the tree have 
sunshine. Obviously it will not help your tree to nail on a 
few branches. If your cistern is dry, wait until it rains; 
or bore a well. Why plunge a pump into a dry hole? 

The speaker whose thoughts and emotions are welling 
within him like a mountain spring will not have much 
trouble to make gestures; it will be merely a question of 
properly directing them. If his enthusiasm for his subject 
is not such as to give him a natural impulse for dramatic 
action, it will avail nothing to furnish him with a long 
list of rules. He may tack on some movements, but they 


will look like the wilted branches nailed to a tree to simu- 
late life. Gestures must be bom, not built. A wooden 
horse may amuse the children, but it takes a live one to 
go somewhere. 

It is not only impossible to lay down definite niles on 
this subject, but it would be silly to try, for everything 
depends on the speech, the occasion, the personality and 
feelings of the speaker, and the attitude of the audience. 
It is easy enoiigh to forecast the result of multiplying seven 
by six, but it is impossible to tell any man what kind of 
gestures he will be impelled to use when he wishes to 
show his earnestness. We may tell him that many 
speakers close the hand, with the exception of the fore- 
finger, and pointing that finger straight at the audience 
pour out their thoughts like a volley; or that others stamp 
one foot for emphasis; or that Mr. Bryan often slaps his 
hands together for great force, holding one palm upward 
in an easy manner; or that Gladstone would sometimes 
make a rush at the clerk's table in Parliament and smite 
it with his hand so forcefully that D'israeli once brought 
down the house by grimly congratulating himself that such 
a barrier stood between himself and ''the honorable 

All these things, and a bookful more, may we tell the 
speaker, but we cannot know whether he can use these 
gestures or not, any more than we can decide whether he 
could wear Mr. Bryan's clothes. The best that can be 
done on this subject is to ofiFer a few practical suggestions, 
and let personal good taste decide as to where effective 
dramatic action ends and extravagant motion begins. 


Any Gesture That Merdy Calls Attention to Itself Is Bad 

The purpose of a gesture is to carry your thought and 
feeling into the minds and hearts of your hearers; this 
it does by emphasizing your message, by interpreting it, 
by expressing it in action, by striking its tone in either a 
physically descriptive, a suggestive, or a t)rpical gesture — 
and let it be remembered all the time that gesture includes 
all physical movement, from facial expression and the 
tossing of the head to the expressive movements of hand 
and foot. A shifting of the pose may be a most effective 

What is true of gesture is true of all life. If the people 
on the street turn around and watch your walk, your walk 
is more important than you are — change it. If the at- 
tention of your audience is called to your gestures, they are 
not convincing, because they appear to be — ^what they 
have a doubtful right to be in reality — studied. Have you 
ever seen a speaker use such grotesque gesticulations that 
you were fascinated by their frenzy of oddity, but could 
not follow his thought? Do not smother ideas with gym- 
nastics. Savonarola would rush down from the high pul- 
pit among the congregation in the duomo at Florence and 
carry the fire of conviction to his hearers; Billy Sunday 
slides to base on the platform carpet in dramatizing one of 
his baseball illustrations. Yet in both instances the mes- 
sage has somehow stood out bigger than the gesture — it 
is chiefly in calm afterthought that men have remembered 
Hit form of dramatic expression. When Sir Henry Irving 
made his famous exit as ^'Shylock" the last thing the audi- 


ence saw was his pallid, avaricious hand extended skinny 
and daw-like against the background. At the time, every 
one was overwhelmed by the tremendous typical quality 
of this gesture; now, we have time to think of its art, 
and discuss its realistic power. 

Only when gesture is subordinated to the absorbing 
importance of the idea — a spontaneous, living expression 
of living truth — is it justifiable at all; and when it is re- 
membered for itself — as a piece of unusual physical 
energy or as a poem of grace — ^it is a dead failure as dra- 
matic expression. There is a place for a unique style 
of walking — ^it is the circus or the cake-walk; there 
is a place for surprisingly rhythmical evolutions of 
aims and legs — it is on the dance floor or the stage. 
Don't let your agility and grace put your thoughts out of 

One of the present writers took his first lessons in ges- 
ture from a certain college president who knew far more 
about what had happened at the Diet of Worms than be 
did about how to express himself in action. His instruc- 
tions were to start the movement on a certain word, con- 
tinue it on a precise curve, and unfold the fingers at the 
conclusion, ending with the forefinger — ^just so. Plenty, 
and more than plenty, has been published on this subject, 
giving just such silly directions. Gesture is a thing of 
mentality and feeling — ^not a matter of geometry. Re- 
member, whenever a pair of shoes, a method of pronuncia- 
tion, or a gesture calls attention to itself, it is bad. When 
you have made really good gestures in a good speech your 
hearers will not go away saying, ''What beautiful gestures 


he madel" but they will say, 'Til vote for that measure.'' 
"He is right — ^I believe in that." 

Gestures Should Be Bom of the Moment 

The best actors and public speakers rarely know in ad- 
vance what gestures they are going to make. They make 
one gesture on certain words tonight, and none at all to- 
morrow night at the same point — ^their various moods and 
interpretations govern their gestures. It is all a matter 
of impulse and intelligent feeling with them — don't over- 
look that word inkUigent, Nature does not always pro- 
vide the same kind of simsets or snow flakes, and the move- 
ments of a good speaker vary almost as much as the crea- 
tions of nature. 

Now all this is not to say that you must not take some 
thought for your gestures. If that were meant, why this 
chapter? When the sergeant de^airingly besought the 
recruit in the awkward squad to step out and look at him- 
self, he gave splendid advice — ^and worthy of personal 
application. Particularly while you are in the learning 
days of public speaking you must learn to criticise your 
own gestures. Recall them — see where they were use- 
less, crude, awkward, what not, and do better next time. 
There is a vast deal of difference between being conscious 
of self and being self-consdous. 

It will require your nice discrimination id order to cul- 
tivate qx)ntaneous gestures and yet give due attention 
to practise. While you depend upon the moment it is 
vital to remember that only a dramatic genius can ef- 
fectively accomplish such feats as we have related of 


Whitefidd, Savonarola, and others; and doubtlc^ the 
first time they were used they came in a burst of spon- 
taneous feeling, yet Whitefield declared that not until 
he had delivered a sermon forty times was its delivery 
perfected. What spontaneity initiates let practise com- 
plete. Every effective speaker and every vivid actor has 
observed, considered and practised gesture until his 
dramatic actions are a sub-consdous possession, just like 
his ability to pronounce correctly without especially con- 
centrating his thought. Every able platform man has 
possessed himself of a dozen ways in which he might de- 
pict in gesture any given emotion; in fact, the means for 
such expression are endless — ^and this is precisely why it is 
both useless and harmful to make a chart of gestures and 
enforce them as the ideab of what may be used to express 
this or that feeling. Practise descriptive, suggestive, and 
typical movements until they come as naturally as a 
good articulation; and rarely forecast the gestures you 
will use at a given moment: leave something to that 

Avoid Monotony in Gesture 

Roast beef is an excellent dish, but it would be terrible 
as an exclusive diet. No matter how effective one 
gesture is, do not overwork it. Put variety in your 
actions. Monotony will destroy all beauty and power. 
The pump handle makes one effective gesture, and 
on hot days that one is very eloquent, but it has its 


Any MavemefU thai is nai SigmficofUf Weakens 

Do not foiget that. Restlessness is not expression. A 
great many useless movements will only take the attention 
of the audience from what you are saying. A widely- 
noted man introduced the speaker of the evening one 
Sunday lately to a New York audience. The only thing 
remembered about that introductory speech is that the 
speaker played nervously with the covering of the table 
as he talked. We naturally watch moving objects. A 
janitor putting down a window can take the attention of 
the hearers from Mr. Roosevelt. By making a few move- 
ments at one side of the stage a chorus girl may draw the 
interest of the spectators from a big scene between the 
"leads." When our forefathers lived in caves they had to 
watch moving objects, for movements meant danger. We 
have not yet overcome the habit. Advertisers have taken 
advantage of it — ^witness the moving electric light signs 
in any city. A shrewd speaker will respect this law and 
conserve the attention of his audience by eliminating all 
unnecessary movements. 

Gesture Should either be Simultaneaus with or Precede the 

Words — not Follow Them 

Lady Macbeth says: "Bear welcome in your eye, your 
hand, your tongue." Reverse this order and you get 
comedy. Say, "There he goes," pointing at him after 
you have finished your words, and see if the result b not 


Do Not Make Short, Jerky Movements 

Some speakers seem to be imitating a waiter who has 
failed to get a tip. Let your movements be easy, and from 
the shoulder, as a rule, rather than from the elbow. But 
do not go to the other extreme and make too many flowing 
motions — that savors of the lackadaisical. 

Put a little "pimch" and life into your gestures. You 
can not, however, do this mechanically. The audience will 
detect it if you do. They may not know just what is 
wrong, but the gesture will have a false appearance to 

Facial Expression is Important 

Have you ever stopped in front of a Broadway theater 
and looked at the photographs of the cast? Notice the 
row of chorus girls who are supposed to be expressing 
fear. Their attitudes are so mechanical that the attempt 
is ridiculous. Notice the picture of the "star" expressing 
the same emotion: his muscles are drawn, his eyebrows 
lifted, he shrinks, and fear shines through his eyes. That 
actor felt fear when the photograph was taken. The 
chorus girls felt that it was time for a rarebit, and more 
nearly expressed that emotion than they did fear. Inci- 
dentally, that is one reason why they stay in the chorus. 

The movements of the facial muscles may mean a great 
deal more than the movements of the hand. The man who 
sits in a dejected heap with a look of despair on his face 
is expressing his thoughts and feelings just as effectively 
as the man who is waving his arms and shouting from the 


back of a dray wagon. The eye has been called the window 
of the soul. Through it shines the light of our thoughts 
and feelings. 

Do Not Use Too Much Geskire 

As a matter of fact, in the big crises of life we do not go 
through many actions. When your closest friend dies 
you do not throw up your hands and talk about your grief. 
You are more likely to sit and brood in dry-eyed silence. 
The Hudson River does not make much noise on its way 
to the sea — ^it is not half so loud as the little creek up in 
Bronx Park that a bullfrog could leap across. The 
barking dog never tears your trousers — at least they say 
he doesn't. Do not fear the man who waves his arms and 
shouts his anger, but the man who comes up quietly with 
eyes flaming and face burning may knock you down. Fuss 
is not force. Observe these principles in nature and prac- 
tise them in your delivery. 

The writer of this chapter once observed an instructor 
drilling a class in gesture. They had come to the passage 
from Henry VIII in which the hiunbled Cardinal says: 
"Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness." It is 
one of the pathetic passages of literature. A man uttering 
such a sentiment would be crushed, and the last thing on 
earth he would do would be to make flamboyant move- 
ments. Yet this class had an elocutionary manual be- 
fore them that gave an appropriate gesture for every oc- 
casion, from paying the gas bill to death-bed farewells. 
So they were instructed to throw their arms out at full 
length on each side and say: "Farewell, a long farewell 


to all my greatness." Such a gesture might possibly be 
used in an after-dinner speech at the convention of a 
telq>hone company whose lines extended from the Atlantic 
to the Pacific, but to think of Wolsey's iising that move- 
ment would suggest that his fate was just. 


The physical attitude to be taken before the audience 
really is included in gesture. Just what that attitude 
should be depends, not on rules, but on the spirit of the 
speech and the occasion. Senator La FoUette stood for 
three hours with his weight thrown on his forward foot 
as he leaned out over the footlights, ran his fingers through 
his hair, and flamed out a denunciation of the trusts. It 
was very effective. But imagine a speaker taking that 
kind of position to discourse on the development of road- 
making machinery. If you have a fiery, aggressive mes- 
sage, and will let yourself go, nature will natiu^y pull 
your weight to your forward foot. A man in a hot political 
argument or a. street brawl never has to stop to think upon 
which foot he should throw his weight. You may some- 
times place your weight on your back foot if you have a 
restful and calm message — ^but don't worry about it: 
just stand like a man who genuinely feels what he is 
saying. Do not stand with your heels close together, like 
a soldier or a butler. No more should you stand with them 
wide apart like a traffic policeman. Use simple good 
manners and common sense. 

Here a word of caution is needed. We have advised you 
to allow your gestures and postures to be spontaneous 


and not woodenly prepared bef ordiand, bat do not go 
to the extreme oi ignoring the importance of acquiring 
mastery of your physical movements. A muscular hand, 
made flexible by free movement, is far more likely to be 
an effective instrument in gesture than a stiff, pudgy 
bunch of fingers. If your shoulders are lithe and carried 
well, while your chest does not retreat from association 
with your chin, the chances of using good extemporaneous 
gestures are so much the better. Learn to keep the back 
of your neck touching your collar, hold your chest high, 
and keep down your waist measure. 

So attention to strength, poise, flexibility, and grace 
of body are the foundations of good gesture, for they are 
expressions of vitality, and without vitality no ^)eaker 
can enter the kingdom of power. When an awkward giant 
like Abraham Lincoln rose to the sublimest heights of 
oratory he did so because of the greatness of his soul — 
his very ruggedness of spirit and artless honesty were 
properly expressed in his gnarly body. The fire of charac- 
ter, of earnestness, and of message swept his hearers be- 
fore him when the tepid words of an insincere Apollo 
would have left no effect. But be sure you are a second 
Lincoln before you despise the handicap of physical 

"Ty" Cobb has confided to the public that when he 
is in a batting slump he even stands before a mirror, bat 
in hand, to observe the "swing" and "follow through" 
of his batting form. If you would learn to stand well be- 
fore an audience, look at yourself in a mirror — but not 
too often. Practise walking and standing before the 


miiror so as to conquer awkwardness — ^not to cultivate a 
pose. Stand on the platform in the same easy manner 
that you would use before guests in a drawing-room. If 
your position is not graceful, make it so by dancing, 
gymnasium work, and by getting grace and poise in your 

Do not continually hold the same position. Any big 
diange of thought necessitates a change of position. Be 
at home. There are no rules — ^it is all a matter of taste. 
While on the platform forget that you have any hands 
until you desire to use them — ^then remember them effec- 
tively. Gravity will take care of them. Of course, if 
you want to put them behind you, or fold them once in 
a while, it is not going to ruin your speech. Thought and 
feeling are the big things in speaking — not the position of- a 
foot or a hand. Simply put your limbs where you want 
them to be — ^you have a will, so do not neglect to use it. 

Let us reiterate, do not despise practise. Your gestures 
and movements may be spontaneous and still be wrong. 
No matter how natural they are, it is possible to improve 

It is impossible for anyone — even yourself — to criticise 
your gestures until after they are made. You can't 
prune a peach tree until it comes up; therefore speak 
much, and observe your own speech. While you are ex- 
amining yourself, do not forget to study statuary and 
paintings to see how the great portrayers of nature have 
made their subjects express ideas through action. Notice 
the gestures of the best speakers and actors. Observe 
the physical expression of life everywhere. The leaves 


on the tree respond to the slightest breeze. The musdes 
of your face, the light of your eyes, should respond to the 
slightest change of feeling. Emerson says: "Every man 
that I meet is my superior in some way. In that I learn 
of him." Illiterate Italians make gestures so wonderful 
and beautiful that Booth or Barrett might have sat at 
thdr feet and been instructed. Open your eyes. Emerson 
sa3rs again: "We are immersed in beauty, but our eyes 
have no dear vision." Toss this book to one side; go 
out and watch one child plead with another for a bite of 
s^ple; see a street brawl; observe life in action. Do you 
want to know how to express victory? Watch the victors* 
hands go high on election night. Do you want to plead 
a cause? Make a composite photograph of all the pleaders 
in daily life you constantly see. Beg, borrow, and steal 
the best you can get, BUT DON'T GIVE IT OUT AS 
THEFT. Assimilate it until it becomes a part of you — 
then lei the expression come out. 


1. From what source do you intend to study gesture? 

2. What is the first requisite of good gestures? Why? 

3. Why is it impossible to lay down sted-dad rules 
for gesturing? 

4. Describe (a) a graceful gesture that you have ob- 
served; (b) a forceful one; (c) an extravagant one; (i) 
an inappropriate one. 

$. What gestures do you use for emphasis? Why? 

6. How can grace of movement be acquired? 

7. When in doubt about a gesture what would you do? 


8. What, according to your observations before a 
mirror, are your faults in gesturing? 

9. How do you intend to correct them? 

10. What are some of the gestures, if any, that you 
might use in delivering Thurston's speech, page 50; 
Grady's speech, page 36? Be specific 

1 1 . Describe some particularly appropriate gesture that 
you have observed. Why was it appropriate? 

12. Cite at least three movements in nature that 
might well be imitated in gesture. 

13. What would you gather from the expressions: 
descriptive gesture, suggestive gesture, and typical gesture? 

14. Select any elemental emotion, such as fear, and 
try, by picturing in your mind at least five different situ- 
ations that might call forth this emotion, to express its 
several phases by gesture — ^including posture, movement, 
and facial expression. 

15. Do the same thing for such other emotions as you 
may select. 

16. Select three passages from any source, only being 
sure that they are suitable for public delivery, memorize 
each, and then devise gestures suitable for each. Say why. 

17. Criticise the gestures in any speech you have heard 

18. Practise flexible movement of the hand. What 
exercises did you find useful? 

19. Carefully observe some animal; then devise 
several typical gestures. 

30. Write a brief dialogue between any two animals; 
read it aloud and invent expressive gestures. 


21. Deliver, with appropriate gestures, the quotation 
that heads this chapter. 

22. Read aloud the following inddent, using dramatic 

When Voltaire was preparing a yoting actress to appear in one 
of his tragedies, he tied her hands to her sides with pack thread 
in order to check her tendency toward eicuberant gesticulation. 
Under this condition of compulsory immobility she commenced 
to rehearse, and for some time she bore herself calmly enough; 
but at last, completely carried away by her feelings, she burst 
her bonds and flung up her arms. Alarmed at her supposed 
neglect of his instructions, she began to apologize to the poet; 
he smilingly reassured her, however; the gesture was then admir- 
able, because it was irrepressible. — Redway, The Actor* s Art, 

23. Render the following with suitable gestures: 

One day, while preaching, Whitefield "suddenly assumed a 
nautical air and manner that were irresistible with him," and 
broke forth in these words: "Well, my boys, we have a clear sky, 
and are making fine headway over a smooth sea before a light 
breeze, and we shall soon lose sight of land. But what means 
this sudden lowering of the heavens, and that dark doud arising 
from beneath the western horizon? Hark! Don't you hear dis- 
tant thunder? Don't you see those flashes of lightning? There 
is a storm gathering! Every man to his duty! The air is dark! — 
the tempest rages! — our masts are gone. — ^the ship is on her beam 
ends ! What next? " At this a number of sailors in the congrega- 
tion, utterly swept away by the dramatic description, leaped 
to their feet and cried: "The longboat! — ^take to the longboat!" 

— Nathan Shbppard, Before an Audience. 



The crown, the consummation, of the discourse is its delivery. 
Toward it all preparation looks, for it the audience waits, by it 

the speaker is judged All the forces of the 

orator's life converge in his oratory. The logical acuteness with 
which he marshals the facts around his theme, the rhetorical 
facility with which he orders his language, the control to which ^ 
he has attained in the use of his body as a single organ of ex- 
pression, whatever richness of acquisition and experience are 
his — ^these all are now incidents; ihe fact is the sending of his 

message home to his hearers The hour of 

delivery is the "supreme, inevitable hour" for the orator. It 
is this fact that makes lack of adequate preparation such an 
impertinence. And it is this that sends such thrills of indescrib- 
able joy through the orator's whole being when he has achieved 
a success — it is like the mother forgetting her pangs for the joy 
of bringing a son into the world. 

— ^J. B. £., How to Attract and Hold an Audience, 

There are four fundamental methods of delivering an 
address; all others are modifications of one or more of 
these: reading from manuscript, committing the written 
speech and speaking from memory, speaking from notes, 
and extemporaneous speech. It is impossible to say which 
form of delivery is best for all speakers in all circumstances 
— ^in deciding for yourself you should consider the oc- 
casion, the nature of the audience, the character of your 
subject, and your own limitations of time and ability. 
However, it is worth while warning you not to be lenient 
in self-exaction. Say to yourself courageously: What 


Others can do, I can attempt. A bold spirit conquers 
where others flinch, and a trying task challenges pluck. 

Reading from Manuscript 

This method really deserves short shrift in a book on 
public speaking, for, delude yourself as you may, public 
reading is not public speaking. Yet there are so many who 
grasp this broken reed for support that we must here dis- 
cuss the "read speech" — apologetic misnomer as it is. 

Certainly there are occasions — among them, the open- 
ing of Congress, the presentation of a sore question before 
a deliberative body, or a historical commemoration — 
when it may seem not alone to the "orator" but to all 
those interested that the chief thing is to express certain 
thoughts in precise language — ^in language that must not 
be either misunderstood or misquoted. At such times 
oratory is unhappily elbowed to a back bench, the manu- 
script is solemnly withdrawn from the capacious inner 
pocket of the new frock coat, and everyone settles himself 
resignedly, with only a feeble flicker of hope that the 
so-called speech may not be as long as it is thick. The 
words may be golden, but the hearers' (?) eyes are prone 
to be leaden, and in about one instance out of a htmdred 
does the perpetrator really deliver an impressive address. 
His excuse is his apology — ^he is not to be blamed, as a 
rule, for some one decreed that it would be dangerous to 
cut loose from manuscript moorings and take his audience 
with him on a really delightful sail. 

One great trouble on such "great occasions" is that the 
essayist — ^for such he is — ^has been chosen not because 


of his speaking ability but because his grandfather fought 
in a certain battle, or his constituents sent him to Congress, 
or his gifts in some line of endeavor other than speaking 
have distinguished him. 

As well choose a surgeon from his ability to play golf. 
To be sure, it always interests an audience to see a great 
man; because of his eminence they are likely to listen to 
his words with respect, perhaps with interest, even when 
droned from a manuscript. But how much more effective 
such a deliverance would be if the papers were cast aside! 

Nowhere is the read-address so common as in the pulpit 
— the pulpit, that in these days least of all can afford to 
invite a handicap. Doubtless many clerg3mien prefer 
finish to fervor — ^let them choose: they are rarely men who 
sway the masses to acceptance of their message. What 
they gain in precision and elegance of language they lose 
in force. 

There are just four motives that can move a man to 
read his address or sermon: 

1. Laziness is the commonest. Enough said. Even 
Heaven cannot make a lazy man efficient. 

2. A memory so defective that he really cannot speak 
without reading. Alas, he is not speaking when he is 
reading, so his dilemma is painful — and not to himself 
alone. But no man has a right to assume that his memory 
is utterly bad until he has buckled down to memory cul- 
ture — ^and failed. A weak memory is oftener an excuse 
than a reason. 

3. A genuine lack of time to do more than write the 
speech. There are such instances — ^but they do not occur 


every week! The (li^x)sition of your time allows more 
flexibility than you realize. Motive 3 too often harnesses 
up with Motive i. 

4. A conviction that the speech is too important to 
risk forsaking the manuscript. But, if it is vital that every 
word should be so precise, the style so polished, and the 
thoughts so logical, that the preacher must write the sermon 
entire, is not the message important enough to warrant 
extra effort in perfecting its delivery? It is an insult to 
a congr^ation and disrespectful to Almighty God to 
put the phrasing of a message above the message itself. 
To reach the hearts of the hearers the sermon must be 
delivered — ^it is only half delivered when the speaker 
cannot utter it with original fire and force, when he merely 
repeats words that were conceived hours or weeks before 
and hence are Uke champagne that has lost its fizz. The 
reading preacher's eyes are tied down to his manuscript; 
he cannot give the audience the benefit of his expression. 
How long would a play fill a theater if the actors held their* 
cue-books in hand and read their parts? Imagine Patrick 
Henry reading his famous speech; Peter-the-Hermit, 
manuscript in hand, exhorting the crusaders; Napoleon, 
constantly looking at his papers, addressing the army at 
the Pyramids; or Jesus reading the Sermon on the Mount! 
These speakers were so full of their subjects, their general 
preparation had been so richly adequate, that there was 
no necessity for a manuscript, either to refer to or to serve 
as "an outward and visible sign" of their preparedness. 
No event was ever so dignified that it required an arti- 
ficial attempt at speech making. Call an essay by its 


right name, but never call it a speech. Perhaps the most 
dignified of events is a supplication to the Creator. If 
you ever listened to the reading of an original prayer you 
must have felt its superficiality. 

Regardless of what the theories may be about manu- 
script delivery, the fact remains that it does not work out 
with efficiency. Avoid U whenever at all possible. 

Committing the Written Speech and Speaking from Memory 

This method has certain points in its favor. If you have 
time and leisure, it is possible to polish and rewrite your 
ideas until they are expressed in clear, concise terms. 
Pope sometimes spent a whole day in perfecting one 
couplet. Gibbon consumed twenty years gathering 
material for and rewriting the '^ Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire." Although you cannot devote such 
painstaking preparation to a speech, you should take time 
to eliminate useless words, crowd whole paragraphs into 
' a sentence and choose proper illustrations. Good speeches, 
like plays, are not written; they are rewritten. The 
National Cash Register Company follows this plan with 
their most efficient selling organization: they require their 
salesmen to memorize verbatim a selling talk. They 
maintain that there is one best way of putting their 
selling arguments, and they insist that each salesman use 
this ideal way rather than employ any haphazard phrases 
that may come into his mind at the moment. 

The method of writing and committing has been adopted 
by many noted speakers; Julius Csesar, Robert IngersoU, 
and, on some occasions, Wendell Phillips, were distin- 


guished examples. The wonderful effects achieved by 
famous actors were, of course, accomplished through the 
delivery of memorized lines. 

The inexperienced speaker must be warned before 
attempting this method of delivery that it is difficult 
and tr3dng. It requires much skill to make it efficient. 
The memorized lines of the young speaker will usually 
sound like memorized words, and repel. 

If you want to hear an example, listen to a department 
store demonstrator repeat her memorized lingo about the 
newest furniture polish or breakfast food. It requires 
training to make a memorized speech sound fresh and 
spontaneous, and, unless you have a fine native memory, 
in each instance the finished product necessitates much 
labor. Should you forget a part of your speech or miss 
a few words, you are liable to be so confused that, like 
Mark Twain's guide in Rome, you will be compelled to 
repeat your lines from the beginning. 

On the other hand, you may be so taken up with trying 
to recall your written words that you will not abandon 
yourself to the spirit of your address, and so fail to deliver 
it with that spontaneity which is so vital to forceful de- 

But do not let these difficulties frighten you. If com- 
mitting seems best to you, give it a faithful trial. Do not 
be deterred by its pitfalls, but by resolute practise avoid 

One of the best wa3rs to rise superior to these difficulties 
is to do as Dr. Wallace Radcliffe often does: commit 
without writing the speech, making practically all the 


preparadon mentally, without putting pen to paper — a 
laborious but effective way of cultivating both mind and 

You will find it excellent practise, both for memory and 
delivery, to commit the specimen speeches f otmd in this 
volume and declaim them, with all attention to the prin- 
ciples we have put before you. William Ellery Channing, 
himself a distinguished q)eaker, years ago had this to say 
of practise in declamation: 

''Is there not an amusement, having an afSnity with 
the drama, which might be usefully introduced among us? 
I mean, Recitation. A work of genius, recited by a man 
of fine taste, enthusiasm, and powers of elocution, is a 
very pure and high gratification. Were this art cultivated 
and encouraged, great numbers, now insensible to the most 
beautiful compositions, might be waked up to their excel- 
lence and power." 

Speaking from Notes 

The third, and the most popular method of delivery, 
is probably also the best one for the beginner. Speaking 
from notes is not ideal delivery, but we learn to swim in 
shallow water before going out beyond the ropes. 

Make a definite plan for your discourse (for a fuller 
discussion see Chapter XVIII) and set down the points 
somewhat in the fashion of a lawyer's brief, or a preacher's 
outline. Here is a sample of very simple notes: 


I. Introduction. 

Attention indispensable to the performance of any 
great work. Anecdote, 


II. Defined and Illustrated. 

1. From common observation. 

2. From the lives of great men i ^ , ^ , 

* I Robert E. Lee. 

m. Its Relation to Other Mental Powers. 

1. Reason. 

2. Imagination. 

3. Memory. 

4. Will. Anecdote. 

TV. Attention May be Cultivated. 

1. Involuntary attention. 

2. Voluntary attention. Examples. 

V. Conclusion. 

The consequences of inattention and of attention. 

Few briefs would be so precise as this one, for with 
experience a speaker learns to use littie tricks to attract 
his eye — ^he may underscore a catch-word heavily, draw 
a red circle around a pivotal idea, enclose the key-word 
of an anecdote in a wavy-lined box, and so on indefi- 
nitely. These points are worth remembering, for nothing 
so eludes the swif t-glandng eye of the speaker as the 
sameness of typewriting, or even a regular pen-script. 
So unintentional a thing as a blot on the page may help 
you to remember a big "point" in your brief — ^perhaps 
by association of ideas. 

An inexperienced speaker would probably require 
fuller notes than the specimen given. Yet that way lies 
danger, for the complete manuscript is but a short remove 


from the copious outline. Use as few notes as possible. 
They may be necessary for the time being, but do not 
fail to look upon them as a necessary evil; and even when 
you lay them before you, refer to them only when com- 
pelled to do so. Make your notes as full as you please in 
preparation, but by all means condense them for plat- 
form use. 

Extemporaneous Speech 

Surely this is the ideal method of delivery. It is far 
and away the most popular with the audience, and the 
favorite method of the most efficient speakers. 

"Extemporaneous speech" has sometimes been made 
to mean unprepared speech, and indeed it is too often 
precisely that; but in no such sense do we recommend 
it strongly to speakers old and young. On the contrary, 
to speak well without notes requires all the preparation 
which we discussed so fully in the chapter on "Fluency," 
while yet relying upon the "inspiration of the hour" for 
some of your thoughts and much of your language. You 
had better remember, however, that the most effective 
inspiration of the hour is the inspiration you yourself 
bring to it, bottled up in your spirit and ready to infuse 
itself into the audience. 

If you extemporize you can get much closer to yoiu: audi- 
ence. In a sense, they appreciate the task you have before 
you and send out their sympathy. Extemporize, and you 
will not have to stop and fiunble around amidst your 
notes — ^you can keep your eye afire with yoiu: message 
and hold your audience with your very glance. You 


yourself will feel their response as you read the effects 
of your warm, spontaneous words, written on their 

Sentences written out in the study are liable to be dead 
and cold when resurrected before the audience. When 
you create as you speak you conserve all the native fire 
of your thought. You can enlarge on one point or omit 
another, just as the occasion or the mood of the audience 
may demand. It is not possible for every speaker to use 
this, the most difficult of all methods of delivery, and 
least of all can it be used successfully ¥7ithout much 
practise, but it is the ideal towards which all should strive. 

One danger in this method is that you may be led aside 
from your subject into by-paths. To avoid this peril, 
firmly stick to your mental outline. Practise ^[)eaking 
from a memorized brief until you gain control. Join a 
debating society — talk, talk, TALK, and always extem- 
porize. You may "make a fool of yourself" once or twice, 
but is that too great a price to pay for success? 

Notes, like crutches, are only a sign of weakness. Re- 
member that the power of your speech depends to some 
extent upon the view your audience holds of you. Gen- 
eral Grant's words as president were more powerful than 
his words as a Missouri farmer. If you would appear in 
the light of an authority, be one. Make notes on your 
brain instead of on paper. 

JoifU Methods of Delivery 

A modification of the second method has been adopted 
by many great speakers, particularly lecturers who are 


compelled to speak on a ¥7ide variety of subjects day after 
day; such q>eakers often commit their addresses to 
memory but keep their manuscripts in flexible book form 
before them, turning several pages at a time. They feel 
safer for having a sheet-anchor to windward — but it is 
an anchor, nevertheless, and hinders rapid, free sailing, 
though it drag never so lightly. 

Other ^>eaker3 throw out a still lighter anchor by 
keeping before them a rather full outline of their written 
and conmiitted speech. 

Others again write and commit a few important parts 
of the address — the introduction, the conclusion, some 
vital argument, some pat illustration — and depend on 
the hour for the language of the rest. This method is 
well adapted to speaking either ¥rith or ¥rithout notes. 

Some speakers read from manuscript the most important 
parts of their speeches and utter the rest extemporane- 

Thus, what we have called "joint methods of delivery" 
are open to much personal variation. You must decide 
for yourself which is best for you, for the occasion, for 
your subject, for your audience — for these four factors 
all have their individual claims. 

Whatever form you choose, do not be so weakly indif- 
ferent as to prefer the easy way — choose the best way, 
whatever it cost you in time and effort. And of this be 
assured: only the practised speaker can hope to gain 
both conciseness of argument and conviction in manner, 
polish of language and power in delivery, finish of style 
and fire in utterance. 



1. Which in your judgment is the most suitable fonn 
of delivery for you? Why? 

2. What objections can you offer to, (a) memorizing 
the entire speech; (6) reading from manuscript; (c) using 
notes; (d) speaking from memorized outline or notes; 
(e) any of the "joint methods"? 

3. What is there to commend in delivering a speech 
in any of the forgoing methods? 

4. Can you suggest any combination of methods that 
you have found efficacious? 

5. What methods, according to your observation, do 
most successful speakers use? 

6. Select some topic from the list on page 123, narrow 
the theme so as to make it specific (see page 122), and 
deliver a short address, utilizing the four methods men- 
tioned, in four different deliveries of the speech. 

7. Select one of the joint methods and apply it to the 
delivery of the same address. 

8. Which method do you prefer, and why? 

9. From the list of subjects in the Appendix select a 
theme and deliver a five-minute address ¥rithout notes, 
but make careful preparation without putting your 
thoughts on paper. 

Note: It is earnestly hoped that instructors will 
not pass this stage of the work without requiring of their 
students much practise in the delivery of original speeches, 
in the manner that seems, after some experiment, to be 
best suited to the student's gifts. Students who are 
studying alone should be equally exacting in demand upon 


themselves. One point is most important: It is easy to 
learn to read a speech, therefore it is much more ui^gent 
that the pupil should have much practise in speaking 
from notes and speaking without notes. At this stage, pay 
more attention to manner than to matter — the succeeding 
chapters take up the composition of the address. Be 
particularly insistent upon frequerU and thorough review of 
the principles of delivery discussed in the preceding 



Providence is always on the side of the last reserve. 

— Napolbon Bonaparte 

So mightiest powers by deepest calms are fed, 
And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be! 

— Barry Cornwall, The Sea in Calm. 

What would happen if you should overdraw your bank 
account? As a rule the check would be protested; but if 
you were on friendly terms with the bank, your check 
might be honored, and you would be called upon to make 
good the overdraft. 

Nature has no such favorites, therefore extends no 
credits. She is as relentless as a gasoline tank — ^when the 
^'gas" is all used the machine stops. It is as reckless for 
a q>eaker to risk going before an audience ¥7ithout having 
something in reserve as it is for the motorist to essay a 
long journey in the wilds without enough gasoline in sight. 

But in what does a speaker's reserve power consist? 
In a well-founded reliance on his general and particular 
grasp of his subject; in the quality of being alert and 
resourceful in thought — ^particxilarly in the ability to 
think while on his feet; and in that self-possession which 
makes one the captain of all his own forces, bodily and 

The first of these elements, adequate preparation, and 


the last, self-reliance, were discussed fully in the chapters 
on "Sdf-Confidence" and "Fluency," so they will be 
touched only incidentally here; besides, the next chapter 
will take up specific methods of preparation for public 
speaking. Therefore the central theme of this chapter is 
the second of the elements of reserve power — Thought. 

The Mental Storehouse 

An empty mind, like an empty larder, may be a serious 
matter or not — ^all will depend on the available resources. 
If there is no food in the cupboard the housewife does not 
nervously rattle the empty dishes; she telephones the 
grocer. If you have no ideas, do not rattle your empty ers 
and ahSy but gei some ideas, and don't speak until you do 
get them. 

This, however, is not being what the old New England 
housekeeper used to call "forehanded." The real solution 
of the problem of what to do with an empty head is never 
to let it become empty. In the artesian wells of Dakota 
the water rushes to the surface and leaps a score of feet 
above the groimd. The secret of this exuberant flow is of 
course the great supply below, crowding to get out. 

What is the use of stopping to prime a mental piunp 
when you can fill your life with the resources for an 
artesian well? It is not enough to have merely enough; 
you must have more than enough. Then the pressure of 
your mass of thought and feeling will maintain your flow 
of speech and give you the confidence and poise that 
denote reserve power. To be away from home with only 


the exact return fare leaves a great deal to circumstances t 
Reserve power is magnetic. It does not consist in 
giving the idea that you are holding something in re- 
serve, but rather in the suggestion that the audience is 
getting the cream of your observation, reading, experi- 
ence, feeling, thought. To have reserve power, therefore, 
you must have enough milk of material on hand to supply 
sufficient cream. 

But how shall we get the milk? There are two ways: 
the one is first-hand — ^from the cow; the other is second- 
hand — ^from the milkman. 

The Seeing Eye 

Some sage has said: "For a thousand men who can 
speak, there is only one who can think; for a thousand 
men who can think, there is only one who can see." To 
see and to think is to get your milk from your own cow. 

When the one man in a million who can see comes along, 
we call him Master. Old Mr. Holbrook, of "Cranford," 
asked his guest what color ash-buds were in March; she 
confessed she did not know, to which the old gentleman 
answered: "I knew you didn't. No more did I — an old 
fool that I am! — ^till this young man comes and tells me. 
'Black as ash-buds in March.' And I've lived all my life 
in the country. More shame for me not to know. Black; 
they are jet-black, madam." 

"This young man" referred to by Mr. Holbrook was 

Henry Ward Beecher said: "I do not believe that I 


have ever met a man on the street that I did not get from 
him some element for a sermon. I never see anything in 
nature which does not work towards that for which I give 
the strength of my life. The material for my sermons is 
all the time following me and swarming up around me." 

Instead of saying only one man in a million can see, it 
would strike nearer the truth to say that none of us sees 
with perfect understanding more than a fraction of what 
passes before our eyes, yet this faculty of acute and accu- 
rate observation is so important that no man ambitious to 
lead can neglect it. The next time you are in a car, look 
at those who sit opposite you and see what you can dis- 
cover of their habits, occupations, ideals, nationalities, 
environments, education, and so on. You may not see a 
great deal the first time, but practise will reveal astonish- 
ing results. Transmute every incident of your day into a 
subject for a speech or an illustration. Translate all that 
you see into terms of speech. When you can describe all 
that you have seen in definite words, you are seeing 
clearly. You are becoming the millionth man. 

De Maupassant's description of an author should also 
fit the public-speaker: ''His eye is like a suction pump, 
absorbing everything; like a pickpocket's hand, alwa3rs 
at work. Nothing escapes him. He is constantly collect- 
ing material, gathering-up glances, gestures, intentions, 
everything that goes on in his presence — ^the slightest 
look, the least act, the merest trifle." De Maupassant 
was himself a millionth man, a Master. 

"Ruskin took a common rock-crystal and saw hidden 
within its stolid heart lessons which have not yet ceased 


to move men's lives. Beecher stood for hours before the 
window of a jewelry store thinking out analogies between 
jewels and the souls of men. Gough saw in a single drop 
of water enough truth wherewith to quench the thirst of 
five thousand souls. Thoreau sat so still in the shadowy 
woods that birds and insects came and opened up their 
secret lives to his eye. Emerson observed the soul of a 
man so long that at length he could say, 'I cannot hear 
what you say, for seeing what you are.' Preyer for three 
years studied the life of his babe and so became an 
authority upon the child mind. Observation! Most men 
are blind. There are a thousand times as many hidden 
truths and imdiscovered facts about us to-day as have 
made discoverers famous — ^facts waiting for some one to 
'pluck out the heart of their mystery.' But so long as 
men go about the search with eyes that see not, so long 
will these hidden pearls lie in their shells. Not an orator 
but who could more effectively point and feather his 
shafts were he to search nature rather thanjibraries. Too 
few can see 'sermons in stones' and 'books in the running 
brooks,' because they are so used to seeing merely sermons 
in books and only stones in running brooks. Sir Philip 
Sidney had a saying, 'Look in thy heart and write;' 
Massillon explained his astute knowledge of the human 
heart by sa3dng, *I learned it by studying myself;' Bjrron 
says of John Locke that 'all his knowledge of the human 
understanding was derived from stud)dng his own mind.' 
Since multiform nature is all about us, originality ought 
not to be so rare."* 

^How to aUraet and Hold an Audioncer J. Berg Esenwein. 


The Thinking Mind 

Thinking is doing mental arithmetic with facts. Add 
this fact to that and you reach a certain conclusion. 
Subtract this truth from another and you have a definite 
result. Multiply this fact by another and have a pre- 
cise product. See how many times this occurrence hap- 
pens in that space of time and you have reached a cal- 
culable dividend. In thought-processes you perform 
every known problem of arithmetic and algebra. That is 
why mathematics are such excellent mental gjimnastics. 
But by the same token, thinking is work. Thinking takes 
energy. Thinking requires (ime, and patience, and broad 
information, and clearheadedness. Beyond a miserable 
little surface-scratching, few people really think at all — 
only one in a thousand, according to the pundit already 
quoted. So long as the present system of education pre- 
vails and children are taught through the ear rather than 
through the eye, so long as they are expected to remember 


thoughts of others rather than think for themselves, this 
proportion will continue — one man in a million will be 
able to see, and one in a thousand to think. 

But, however thought-less a mind has been, there is 
promise of better things so soon as the mind detects its 
own lack of thought-power. The first step is to stop 
r^arding thought as '^the magic of the mind," to use 
Byron's expression, and see it as thought truly is — a 
weighing of ideas and a placing of them in relationships to 
each other. Ponder this definition and see if you have 
learned to think efficiently. 


Habitual thinking is just that — a habit. Habit comes 
of doing a thing repeatedly. The lower habits are ac- 
quired easily, the higher ones require deeper grooves if 
they are to persist. So we find that the thought-habit 
comes only with resolute practise; yet no effort will 
yield richer dividends. Persist in practise, and whereas 
you have been able to think only an inch-deep into a 
subject, you will soon find that you can penetrate it a 

Perhaps this homely metaphor will suggest how to 
begin the practise of consecutive thinking, by which we 
mean welding a number of separate thoughi4inks into a 
chain that will hold. Take one link at a time, see that each 
naturally belongs ¥7ith the ones you link to it, and remem- 
ber that a single missing link means no chain. 

Thinking is the most fascinating and exhilarating of all 
mental exercises. Once realize that your opinion on a 
subject does not represent the choice you have made 
between what Dr. Cerebrum has written and Professor 
Cerebellum has said, but is the result of your own ear- 
nestly-applied brain-energy, and you will gain a confidence 
in your ability to speak on that subject that nothing will 
be able to shake. Your thought will have given you both 
power and reserve power. 

Someone has condensed the relation of thought to 
knowledge in these pungent, homely lines: 

" Don*t give me the man who thinks he thinks. 
Don't give me the man who thinks he knows, 

But give me the man who knows he thinks, 

And I have the man who knows he knows!" 


Reading As a Stimulus to ThaugtU 

No matter how dry the cow, however, nor how poor our 
ability to milk, there is still the milkman — ^we can read 
what others have seen and felt and thought. Often, 
indeed, such records will kindle ¥7ithin us that pre-essential 
and vital spark, the desire to be a thinker. 

The following selection is taken from one of Dr. Newell 
D wight Hillis's lectures, as given in ''A Man's Value to 
Society." Dr. Hillis is a most fluent speaker — ^he never 
refers to notes. He has reserve power. His mind is a 
veritable treasure-house of facts and ideas. See how he 
draws from a knowledge of fifteen different general or 
special subjects: geology, plant life, Palestine, chemistry, 
Eskimos, mythology, literature. The Nile, history, law, 
wit, evolution, religion, biography, and electricity. Surely, 
it needs no sage to discover that the secret of this man's 
reserve power is the old secret of our artesian well whose 
abundance surges from unseen depths. 


Bach Kingsley approaches a stone as a jeweler approaches a 
casket to unlock the hidden gems. Geikie causes the bit of hard 
coal to unroll the juicy bud, the thick odorous leaves, the pun- 
gent boughs, until the bit of carbon enlarges into the beauty of a 
tropic forest. That little book of Grant Allen's called "How 
Plants Grow" exhibits trees and shrubs as eating, drinking and 
marrying. We see certain date groves in Palestine, and other 
date groves in the desert a hundred miles away, and the pollen 
of the one carried upon the trade winds to the branches of the 
other. We see the tree with its strange system of water-works, 

'Uiad by pennianon. 


pumping the sap up through pipes and mains; we see the 
chemical laboratory in the branches mixing flavor for the orange 
in one bough, mixing the juices of the pineapple in another; we 
behold the tree as a mother making each infant acorn ready 
against the long winter, rolling it in swaths soft and warm as 
wool blankets, wrapping it around with garments impervious to 
the rain, and finally slipping the infant acorn into a sleeping bag, 
like those the Eskimos gave Dr. Kane. 

At length we come to feel that the Greeks were not far wrong 
in thinking each tree had a dryad in it, animating it, protecting 
it against destruction, dying when the tree withered. Some 
Faraday shows us that each drop of water is a sheath for electric 
forces sufficient to charge 800,000 Leyden jars, or drive an 
engine from Liverpool to London. Some Sir William Thomson 
tells us how hydrogen gas will chew up a large iron spike as a 
child's molars will chew off the end of a stick of candy. Thus 
each new book opens up some new and hitherto unexplored 
realm of nature. Thus books fulfill for us the legend of the 
wondrous glass that showed its owner all things distant and 
all things hidden. Through books our world becomes as "a 
bud from the bower of God's beauty; the sun as a spark from 
the light of His wisdom; the sky as a bubble on the sea of His 
Power." Therefore Mrs. Browning's words, "No child can be 
called fatherless who has God and his mother; no youth can be 
called friendless who has God and the companionship of good 

Books also advantage us in that they exhibit the tmity of 
progress, the solidarity of the race, and the continuity of history. 
Authors lead us back along the pathway of law, of liberty or 
religion, and set us down in front of the great man in whose 
brain the principle had its rise. As the discoverer leads us from 
the mouth of the Nile back to the headwaters of Nyanza, so 
books exhibit great ideas and institutions, as they move for- 
ward, ever widening and deepening, like some Nile feeding 
many civilizations. For all the reforms of to-day go back to 
some reform of yesterday. Man's art goes back to Athens and 
Thebes. Man's laws go back to Blackstone and Justinian. Man's 
reapers and plows go back to the savage scratching the ground 
with his forked stick, drawn by the wild bullock. The heroes of 


liberty march forward in a solid column. Lincoln grasps the 
hand of Washington. Washington received his weapons at the 
hands of Hampden and Cromwell. The great Puritans lock 
hands with Luther and Savonarola. 

The unbroken procession brings us at length to Him whose 
Sermon on the Mount was the very charter of liberty. It puts 
us imder a divine spell to perceive that we are all coworkers 
with the great men, and yet single threads in the warp and 
woof of civilization. And when books have related us to our 
own age, and related all the epochs to God, whose providence is 
the gulf stream of history, these teachers go on to stimulate us 
to new and greater achievements. Alone, man is an unlighted 
candle. The mind needs some book to kindle its faculties. 
Before Byron began to write he used to give half an hour to read- 
ing some favorite passage. The thought of some great writer 
never failed to kindle Byron into a creative glow, even £is a 
match lights the kindlings upon the grate. In these btuning, 
luminous moods Byron's mind did its best work. The true book 
stimulates the mind as no wine can ever quicken the blood. It 
is reading that brings us to our best, and rouses each faculty to 
its most vigorous life. 

We recognize this as pure cream, and if it seems at first 
to have its secondary source in the friendly milkman, let 
us not forget that the theme is ''The Uses of Books and 
Reading." Dr. Hillis both sees and thinks. 

It is fashionable just now to decry the value of reading. 
We read, we are told, to avoid the necessity of thinking / 

for ourselves. Books are for the mentally lazy. 

Though this is only a half-truth, the element of truth 
it contains is large enough to make us pause. Put your- 
self through a good old Presbyterian soul-searching self- 
examination, and if reading-from-thought-laziness is one 
of your sins, confess it. No one can shrive you of it — 
but yourself. Do penance for it by using your own brains, 


for it is a transgression that dwarfs the growth of thought 
and destroys mental freedom. At first the penance will 
be trying — but at the last you will be glad in it. 

Reading should entertain, give information, or stimulate 
thought. Here, however, we are chiefly concerned with 
information, and stimulation of thought. 

What shall I read for information? 

The ample page of knowledge, as Grey tells us, is "rich 
with the spoils of time," and these are ours for the price 
of a theatre ticket. You may conmiand Socrates and 
Marcus Aurelius to sit beside you and discourse of their 
choicest, hear Lincoln at Gett3rsburg and Pericles at 
Athens, storm the Bastile with Hugo, and wander through 
Paradise with Dante. You may explore darkest Africa 
with Stanley, penetrate the himian heart with Shakes- 
peare, chat with Carlyle about heroes, and delve with 
the Apostle Paul into the m3rsteries of faith. The 
general knowledge and the inspiring ideas that men 
have collected through ages of toil and experiment 
are yours for the asking. The Sage of Chelsea was 
right: "The true imiversity of these days is a collection 
of books." 

To master a worth-while book is to master much else 
besides; few of us, however, make perfect conquest of a 
volume without first owning it physically. To read a 
borrowed book may be a joy, but to assign your own book 
a place of its own on your own shelves — be they few or 
many — ^to love the book and fed of its worn cover, to 
thumb it over slowly, page by page, to pencil its margins 
in agreement or in protest, to smile or thrill with its 


remembered pmigendes — ^no mere book borrower could 
ever sense all that delight. 

The reader who possesses books in this double sense 
finds also that his books possess him, and the volimies 
which most firmly grip his life are likely to be those it has 
cost him some sacrifice to own. Those lightly-come-by 
titles, which Mr. Fatpurse selects, perhaps by proxy, can 
scarcely play the guide, philosopher and friend in crucial 
moments as do the books — ^long coveted, joyously attained 
— that are welcomed into the Uves, and not merely the 
libraries, of us others who are at once poorer and richer. 

So it is scarcely too much to say that of all the many 
wa3rs in which an owned — a mastered — ^book is like to a 
himian friend, the truest ways are these: A friend is worth 
making sacrifices for, both to gain and to keep; and our 
loves go out most dearly to those into whose inmost lives 
we have sincerely entered. 

When you have not the advantage of the test of time 
by which to judge books, investigate as thoroughly as 
possible the authority of the books you read. Much that 
is printed and passes current is counterfeit. '*I read it 
in a book" is to many a sufficient warranty of truth, but 
not to the thinker. "What book?" asks the careful 
mind. ''Who wrote it? What does he know about the 
subject and what right has he to speak on it? Who 
recognizes him as authority? With what other recognized 
authorities does he agree or disagree?" Being caught 
trying to pass counterfeit money, even unintentionally, 
is an unpleasant situation. Beware lest you circulate 
spurious coin. 


Above all, seek reading that makes you use your own 
brains. Such reading must be alive with fresh points of 
view, packed with special knowledge, and deal with sub- 
jects of vital interest. Do not confine your reading to 
what you already know you will agree with. Opposition 
wakes one up. The other road may be the better, but 
you will never know it unless you "give it the once over." 
Do not do all your thinking and investigating in front of 
given "Q. E. D.'s;" merely assembling reasons to fill in 
between your theorem and what you want to prove will 
get you nowhere. Approach each subject with an open 
mind and — once sure that you have thought it out thor- 
oughly and honestly — ^have the courage to abide by the 
decision of your own thought. But don't brag about it 

No book on public speaking will enable you to discourse 
on the tariff if you know nothing about the tariff. Know- 
ing more about it than the other man will be your only 
hope for making the other man listen to you. 

Take a group of men discussing a governmental policy 
of which some one says: "It is socialistic." That will 
commend the policy to Mr. A., who believes in socialism, 
but condemn it to Mr. B., who does not. It may be that 
neither had considered the poUcy beyond noticing that its 
surface-color was sodaUstic. The chances are, further- 
more, that neither Mr. A. nor Mr. B. has a definite idea 
of what socialism really is, for as Robert Louis Stevenson 
says, "Man lives not by bread alone but chiefly by catch 
words." If you are of this group of men, and have ob- 
served this proposed government policy, and investigated 


it, and thought about it, what you have to say cannot 
fail to command their respect and approval, for you will 
have shown them that you possess a grasp of your subject 
and — to adopt an exceedingly expressive bit of slang — 
then some. 


I. Robert Houdin trained his son to give one swift 
glance at a shop window in passing and be able to report 
accurately a surprising number of its contents. Try this 
several times on different windows and report the result. 

3. What effect does reserve power have on an audi- 

3. What are the best methods for acquiring reserve 

4. What is the danger of too much reading? 

5. Analyze some speech that you have read or heard 
and notice how much real information there is in it. Com- 
pare it with Dr. Hillis's speech on ''Brave Little Belgium," 
page 394. 

6. Write out a three-minute speech on any subject 
you choose. How much information, and what new ideas, 
does it contain? Compare your speech with the extract 
on page 191 from Dr. Hillis's "The Uses of Books and 

7. Have you ever read a book on the practise of 
thinking? If so, give your impressions of its value. 

Note: There are a number of excellent books on the 
subject of thought and the management of thought. The 
f (blowing are recommended as being especially helpful: 


'' Thinking and Learning to Think/' Nathan C. Scfaaeffer; 
"Talks to Students on the Art of Study," Cramer; "As 
a Man Thinketh/' Allen. 

8. Define (a) logic; (b) mental philosophy (or mental 
science); (c) psychology; (d) abstract 



Suit your topics to your strength. 
And ponder well your subject, and its length; 
Nor lift your load, before you're quite aware 
What weight your shoulders will, or will not, bear. 

— Byron, Hints from Horace. 

Look to this day, for it is life — ^the very life of life. In its brief 
course lie all the verities and realities of your existence: the 
bliss of growth, the glory of action, the splendor of beauty. For 
yesterday is already a dream and tomorrow is only a vision; but 
today, well lived, makes every yesterday a dream of happiness 
and every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well, therefore, to 
this day. Such is the salutation of the dawn. 

— From the Sanskrit. 

In the chapter preceding we have seen the influence of 
^'Thought and Reserve Power" on general prq)aredness 
for public speech. But prq)aration consists in something 
more definite than the cultivation of thought-power, 
whether from original or from borrowed sources — it in- 
volves a spedficatty acquisitive attitude of the whole life. 
If you would become a full soul you must constantly take 
in and assimilate, for in that way only may you hope to 
give out that which is worth the hearing; but do not con- 
fuse the acquisition of general information with the mas- 
tery of specific knowledge. Information consists of a fact 
or a group of facts; knowledge is organized information — 
knowledge knows a fact in relation to other facts. 


Now the important thing here is that you should set 
all your faculties to take in the things about you with the 
particular object of correlating them and storing them for 
use in public speech. You must hear with the speaker's 
ear, see with the speaker's eye, and choose books and com- 
panions and sights and sounds with the ^>eaker's purp)ose 
in view. At the same time, be ready to receive unplanned- 
for knowledge. One of the fascinating elements in your 
life as a public speaker will be the conscious growth in 
power that casual daily experiences bring. If your eyes 
are alert you will be constantly discovering facts, illus- 
trations, and ideas without having set out in search of 
them. These all may be turned to account on the plat- 
form; even the leaden events of hum-drum daily life may 
be melted into bullets for future battles. 

Conservation of Time in PreparcUion 

But, you say, I have so little time for preparation — ^my 
mind must be absorbed by other matters. Daniel Webster 
never let an opportunity pass to gather material for his 
speeches. When he was a boy working in a sawmill he 
read out of a book in one hand and busied himself at some 
mechanical task with the other. In youth Patrick Henry 
roamed the fields and woods in solitude for da3rs at a time 
unconsciously gathering material and impressions for his 
later service as a speaker. Dr. Russell H. Conwell, the 
man who, the late Charles A. Dana said, had addressed 
more hearers than any living man, used to memorize long 
passages from Milton while tending the boiling syrup- 
pans in the silent New England woods at night. The 


modem employer would discharge a Webster of today for 
inattention to duty, and doubtless he would be justified, 
and Patrick Henry seemed only an idle chap even in those 
easy-going days; but the truth remains: those who take 
in power and have the purpose to use it efficiently will 
some day win to the place in which that stored-up power 
will revolve great wheels of influence. 

Napoleon said that quarter hours decide the destinies 
of nations. How many quarter hours do we let drift by 
aimlessly! Robert Louis Stevenson conserved o^ his time; 
eoery experience became capital for his work — ^for capital 
may be defined as "the results of labor stored up to assist 
future production." He continually tried to put into 
suitable language the scenes and actions that were in evi- 
dence about him. Emerson says: "Tomorrow will be 
like today. Life wastes itself whilst we are preparing to 

Why wait for a more convenient season for this broad, 
general^preparation? The fifteen minutes that we spend 
on the car could be profitably turned into speech-capital. 

Procure a cheap edition of modem speeches, and by 
cutting out a few pages each day, and reading them during 
the idle minute here and there, note how soon you can 
make yourself familiar with the world's best speeches. 
If you do not wish to mutilate your book, take it with 
you — ^most of the epoch-making books are now printed 
in small volumes. The daily waste of natural gas in the 
Oklahoma^fields is equal to ten thousand tons of coal. 
Only about three per cent of the power of the coal that 
enters the|fumace ever diffuses itself from your electric 


bulb as light — ^the other ninety-seven per cent is wasted. 
Yet these wastes are no larger, nor more to be lamented, 
than the tremendous waste of time which, if conserved, 
would increase the speaker's powers to their nih degree. 
Scientists are making three ears of com grow where one 
grew before; efficiency engineers are eliminating useless 
motions and products from our factories: catch the spirit of 
the age and apply efficiency to the use of the most valuable 
asset you possess — time. What do you do mentally with 
the time you spend in dressing or in shaving? Take some 
subject and concentrate your energies on it for a week 
by utilizing just the spare moments that would otherwise 
be wasted. You will be amazed at the result. One pas- 
sage a day from the Book of Books, one golden ingot from 
some master mind, one fully-possessed thought of your own 
might thus be added to the treasury of your life. Do not 
waste your time in ways that profit you nothing. Fill 
"the unforgiving minute" with "sixty seconds' worth of 
distance run" and on the platform you will be immeasura- 
bly the gainer. 

Let no word of this, however, seem to decry the value 
of recreation. Nothing is more vital to a worker than 
rest — ^yet nothing is so vitiating to the shirker. Be sure 
that your recreation re-creates. A pause in the midst of 
labors gathers strength for new effort. The mistake b to 
pause too long, or to fill your pauses with ideas that make 

life flabby. 

Choosing a Subject 

Subject and materiab tremendously influence each 


''This arises from the fact that there are two distinct 
ways in which a subject may be chosen: by arbitrary 
choice, or by development from thought and reading. 

"Arbitrary choice .... of one subject from among 
a number involves so many important considerations that 
no speaker ever fails to appreciate the tone of satisfaction 
in him who triumphantly announces: 'I have a subject!' 

" 'Do give me a subject!' How often the weary school 
teacher hears that cry. Then a list of themes is suggested, 
gone over, considered, and, in most instances, rejected, 
because the teacher can know but imperfectly what is 
in the pupil's mind. To suggest a subject in this way is 
like tr3dng to discover the street on which a lost child lives, 
by naming over a number of streets until one strikes the 
little one's ear as sounding familiar. 

"Choice by development is a very different process. 
It does not ask, What shall I say? It tiuns the mind in 
upon itself and asks, What do I think? Thus, the subject 
may be said to choose itself, for in the process of thought 
or of reading one theme rises into prominence and becomes 
a living germ, soon to grow into the discourse. He who 
has not learned to reflect is not really acquainted with his 
own thoughts; hence, his thoughts are not productive. 
Habits of reading and reflection will supply the speaker's 
mind with an abtmdance of subjects of which he already 
knows something from the very reading and reflection 
which gave birth to his theme. This is not a paradox, but 
sober truth. 

" It must be already i^parent that the choice of a subject 
by development savors more of collection than of con- 


scious selection. The subject 'pops into the mind.' 
• . . . In the intellect of the trained thinker it con- 
centrates — ^by a process which we have seen to be induc- 
tion — ^the facts and truths of which he has been reading 
and thinking. This is most often a gradual process. The 
scattered ideas may be but vaguely connected at first, but 
more and more they concentrate and take on a single form, 
until at length one strong idea seems to grasp the soul 
with irresistible force, and to cry aloud, 'Arise, I am your 
theme! Henceforth, until you transmute me by the 
alchemy of your inward fire into vital speech, you shall 
know no rest!' Happy, then, is that speaker, for he has 
found a subject that grips him. 

"Of course, experienced speakers use both methods of 
selection. Even a reading and reflective man is sometimes 
compelled to hunt for a theme from Dan to Beersheba, 
and then the task of gathering materials becomes a serious 
one. But even in such a case there is a sense in which the 
selection comes by development, because no careful 
speaker settles upon a theme which does not represent 
at least some matured thought."^ 

Deciding on the Subject MaUer 

Even when your theme has been chosen for you by 
someone else, there remains to you a considerable field 
for choice of subject matter. The same considerations, 
in fact, that would govern you in choosing a theme must 
guide in the selection of the material. Ask yoxirself- 
someone else — such questions as these: 

^Bovo to AUrael and Hold an AudiencSt J. Berg Eaenwein. 


What is the precise nature of the occasion? How large 
an audience may be expected? From what walks of life 
do they come? What is their probable attitude toward 
the theme? Who else will speak? Do I speak first, last, 
or where, on the program? What are the other speakers 
going to talk about? What is the nature of the audi- 
torium? Is there a desk? Could the subject be more 
effectively handled if somewhat modified? Precisely 
how much time am I to fill? 

It is evident that many speech-misfits of subject, 
speaker, occasion and place are due to failiure to ask just 
such pertinent questions. What should be said, by whom, 
and in what circumstances, constitute ninety per cent of 
efficiency in public address. No matter who asks you, 
refuse to be a square peg in a round hole. 

Questions of Proportion 

Proportion in a speech is attained by a nice adjustment 
of time. How fully you may treat your subject it is not 
alwa}^ for you to say. Let ten minutes mean neither 
nine nor eleven — ^though better nine than eleven, at all 
events. You wouldn't steal a man's watch; no more 
should you steal the time of the succeeding speaker, or 
that of the audience. There is no need to overstep time- 
limits if you make your preparation adequate and divide 
your subject so as to give each thought its due proportion 
of attention — and no more. Blessed is the man that 
maketh short speeches, for he shall be invited to speak 

Another matter of prime importance is, what part of 


your address demands the most emphasis. This once 
decided, you will know where to place that pivotal section 
so as to give it the greatest strategic value, and what 
degree of prq)aration must be given to that central thought 
so that the vital part may not be submerged by non- 
essentials. Many a speaker has awakened to find that he 
has burnt up eight minutes of a ten-minute speech in 
merely getting up steam. That is like spending eighty per 
cent of your building-money on the vestibule of the house. 
The same sense of proportion must tell you to stop 
precisely when you are through — ^and it is to be hoped 
that you will discover the arrival of that period before 
your audience does. 

Tapping Original Sources 

The surest way to give life to speech-material is to 
gather your facts at first hand. Your words come with 
the weight of authority when you can say, "I have 
examined the emplo3rment rolls of every mill in this dis- 
trict and find that thirty-two per cent of the children em- 
ployed are under the legal age." No citation of authorities 
can equal that. You must adopt the methods of the 
reporter and find out the facts underlying your argument 
or appeal. To do so may prove laborious, but it should 
not be irksome, for the great world of fact teems with 
interest, and over and above all is the sense of power that 
will come to you from original investigation. To see and 
feel the facts you are discussing will react upon you much 
more powerfully than if you were to secure the facts at 
second hand. 


Live an active life among people who are doing worth- 
while things, keep eyes and ears and mind and heart open 
to absorb truth, and then tell of the things you know, as 
if you know them. The world will listen, for the world 
loves nothing so much as real life. 

Hew to Use a Library 

Unsuspected treasures lie in the smallest library. Even 
when the owner has read every last page of his books it is 
only in rare instances that he has full indexes to all of them, 
either in his mind or on paper, so as to make available the 
vast number of varied subjects touched upon or treated 
in volumes whose titles would never suggest such topics. 

For this reason it is a good thing to take an odd hour 
now and then to browse. Take down one volume after 
another and look over its table of contents and its index. 
(It is a reproach to any author of a serious book not to 
have provided a full index, with cross references.) Then 
glance over the pages, making notes, mental or physical, 
of material that looks interesting and usable. Most 
libraries contain volimies that the owner is "going to read 
some day." A familiarity with even the contents of such 
books on your own shelves will enable you to refer to them 
when you want help. Writings read long ago should be 
treated in the same way — ^in every chapter some surprise 
lurks to delight you. 

In looking up a subject do not be discouraged if you do 
not find it indexed or outlined in the table of contents — 
you are pretty sure to discover some material under a 
related title. 


Suppose you set to work somewhat in this way to 
gather references on "Thinking:" First you look over 
your book titles, and there is SchaeflFer's "Thinking and 
Learning to Think." Near it is Ejramer's "Talks to 
Students on the Art of Study" — ^that seems likely to pro- 
vide some material, and it does. Naturally you think 
next of your book on psychology, and there is help there. 
If you have a volume on the human intellect you will have 
already turned to it. Suddenly you remember your 
encyclopedia and your dictionary of quotations — and 
now material fairly rains upon you; the problem is what 
fiot to use. In the encyclopedia you turn to every reference 
that includes or touches or even suggests "thinking;'^ 
and in the dictionary of quotations you do the same. The 
latter volume you find peculiarly helpful because it sug- 
gests several volumes to you that are on your own shelves 
— ^you never would have thought to look in them for refer- 
ences on this subject. Even fiction will supply help, but 
especially books of essays and biography. Be aware of 
your own resources. 

To make a general index to your library does away with 
the necessity for indexing individual volumes that are 
not already indexed. 

To begin with, keep a note-book by you; or small cards 
and paper cuttings in your pocket and on your desk will 
serve as well. The same note-book that records the im- 
pressions of your own experiences and thoughts will be 
enriched by the ideas of others. 

To be sure, this note-book habit means labor, but 
remember that more speeches have been spoiled by half- 


hearted preparation than by lack of talent. Laziness is 
an own-brother to Over-confidence, and both are your 
inveterate enemies, though they pretend to be soothing 

Conserve your material by indexing every good idea 
on cards, thus: 


CPrrgau4-(jJ S., 6yw-. lb 

On the card illustrated above, clippings are indexed by 
giving the niunber of the envelope in which they are filed. 
The envelopes may be of any size desired and kept in any 
convenient receptable. On the foregoing example, "Pro- 
gress of S., Envelope i6," will represent a clipping, filed 
in Envelope 16, which is, of course, numbered arbitrarily. 

The fractions refer to books in your library — ^the niunera- 
tor being the book-number, the denominator referring to 
the page. Thus, "S. a fallacy, ^" refers to page 210 of 
volume 96 in your library. By some arbitrary sign — say 
red ink — ^you may even index a reference in a public 
library book. 

If you preserve your magazines, important articles may 
be indexed by month and year. An entire volume on a 


subject may be indicated like the imaginary book by 
"Forbes." If you clip the articles, it is better to index 
them according to the envelope system. 

Your own writings and notes may be filed in envelopes 
with the clippings or in a separate series. 

Another good indexing system combines the library 
index with the ''scrap/' or clipping, system by making the 
outside of the envelope serve the same purpose as the 
card for the indexing of books, magazines, clippings and 
manuscripts, the latter two classes of material being 
enclosed in the envelopes that index them, and all filed 

When your cards acciunulate so as to make ready ref- 
erence difficult^under a single alphabet, you may subdivide 
each letter by subordinate guide cards marked by the 
vowels. A, E, I, O, U. Thus, "Antiquities" would be 
filed- imder i in A, because A begins the word, and the 
second letter, n, comes after the vowel i in the alphabet, 
but before o. In the same manner, "Beecher" would be 
filed under e in B; and "Hydrogen" would come under 


OuUining the Address 

No one can advise you how to prepare the notes for an 
address. Some speakers get the best results while walking 
out and ruminating, jotting down notes as they pause in 
their walk. Others never put pen to paper until the whole 
speech has been thought out. The great majority, how- 
ever, will take notes, classify their notes, write a hasty 
first draft, and then revise the speech. Try each of these 
methods and choose the one that is best— /or you. Do 


not allow any man to force you to work in his way; but 
do not n^lect to consider his way, for it may be better 
than your own. 

For those who make notes and with their aid write out 
the s[)eech, these suggestions may prove helpful: 

After having read and thought enough, classify your 
notes by setting down the big, central thoughts of your 
material on separate cards or slips of paper. These will 
stand in the same relation to your subject as chapters do 
to a book. 

Then arrange these main ideas or heads in such an order 
that they will lead effectively to the result you have in 
mind, so that the speech may rise in argument, in interest, 
in power, by piling one fact or appeal upon another until 
the dimax — the highest point of influence on your audi- 
ence — ^has been reached. 

Next group all your ideas, facts, anecdotes, and illus- 
trations under the foregoing main heads, each where it 
naturally belongs. 

You now have a skeleton or outline of your address 
that in its poUshed form might serve either as the brief, or 
manuscript notes, for the s[)eech or as the guide-outline 
which you will expand into the written address, if written 
it is to be. 

Imagine each of the main ideas in the brief on page 213 
as being separate; then picture your mind as sorting them 
out and placing them in order; finally, conceive of how 
you would fill in the facts and examples under each head, 
giving special prominence to those you wish to emphasize 
and subduing those of less moment. In the end, you have 


the outline complete. The simplest form of outline — ^not 
very suitable for use on the platform, however — is the 


What prosperity means. — ^The real tests of prosperity. — 
Its basis in the soil. — American agricultural progress. — 
New interest in farming. — Enormous value of our agri- 
cultural products. — Reciprocal eflfect on trade. — Foreign 
countries aflFected. — Effects of our new internal economy — 
the regulation of banking and "big business" — on pros- 
perity. — Effects of our revised attitude toward foreign 
markets, including our merchant marine. — Summary. 

Obviously, fhi^ very simple outline is capable of con- 
siderable expansion under each head by the addition of 
facts, arguments, inferences anid examples. 

Here is an outline arranged with more regard for 



I. Fact AS Cause: Many immigrants are practically 
paupers. (Proofs involving statistics or state- 
ments of authorities.) 
n. Fact as Effect: They sooner or later fill our 
alms-houses and become public charges. (Proofs 
involving statistics or statements of authorities.) 

'Adapted from Componiion-BMoriCt Soott and Denny, p. 241. 


in. Fact as Cause: Some of them axe criminals. 

(Examples of recent cases.) 
IV. Fact as Effect: They reinforce the criminal 

classes. (Effects on our dvic life.) 
V. Fact as Cause: Many of them know nothing of 

the duties of free citizenship. (Examples.) 
VI. Fact as Effect: Such immigrants recruit the 

worst element in our politics. (Proofs.) 
A more highly ordered grouping of topics and sub- 
topics is shown in the following: 


I. Introduction: Why the subject is timely. In- 
fluences operative against this contention today. 
II. Christianity Presided Over the Early His- 
tory OF America. 

1. First practical discovery by a Christian ex- 
plorer. Columbus worshiped God on the new 

2. The Cavaliers. 

3. The French Catholic settlers. 

4. The Huguenots. 

5. The Puritans. 

in. The Birth of Our Nation was Under Chris- 
tian Auspices. 

1. Christian character of Washington. 

2. Other Christian patriots. 

3. The Church in our Revolutionary struggle. 


IV. Our Later History has only Eicphasized Our 
National Attitude. Examples of dealings 
with foreign nations show Christian magna- 
nimity. Returning the Chinese Indenmity; 
fostering the Red Cross; attitude toward Bdgimn. 
V. Our Governmental Forms and Many of Our 
Laws are of a Christian Temper. 

1. The use of the Bible in public ways^ oaths, etc. 

2. The Bible in our schools. 

3. Christian chaplains minister to our law- 
making bodies, to our army, and to our navy. 

4. The Christian Sabbath is officially and gen- 
erally recognized. 

5. The Christian family and the Christian system 
of morality are at the basis of our laws. 

VI. The Life of the People Testifies of the 
Power of Christianity. Charities, education, 
etc., have Christian tone. 
Vn. Other Nations Regard us as a Christian 

Vni. Conclusion: The attitude which may reasona- 
bly be expected of all good citizens toward ques- 
tions touching the preservation of our standing as 
a Christian nation. 

Writing and Rmsion 

After the outline has been perfected comes the time to 
write the speech, if write it you must. Then, whatever yoo 
do, write it at white heat, with not too much thought of 
anything but the strong, appealing expression of your ideas. 


The final stage is the paring down, the re-vision — ^the 

seeing again, as the word implies — when all the parts of 

the speech must be impartially scrutinized for clearness, 

precision, force, effectiveness, suitability, proportion, 

logical climax; and in all this you must imagine yourself to 

be before your audience, for a speech is not an essay and 

what will convince and arouse in the one will not prevail 

in the other. 


Often last of all will come that which in a sense is first 
of all — the title, the name by which the speech is known. 
Sometimes it will be the simple theme of the address, as 
"The New Americanism," by Henry Watterson; or it 
may be a bit of s3anbolism typifying the spirit of the 
address, as "Acres of Diamonds," by Russell H. Conwell; 
or it may be a fine phrase taken from the body of the 
address, as "Pass Prosperity Around," by Albert J. 
Beveridge. All in all, from whatever motive it be chosen, 
let the title be fresh, short, suited to the subject, and likely 
to exdte interest. 


1. Define (a) introduction; ifl) climax; (c) peroration. 

2. If a thirty-minute speech would require three hours 
for specific preparation, wotild you expect to be able to 
do equal justice to a speech one-third as long in one-third 
the time for preparation? Give reasons. 

3. Relate briefly any personal experience you may 
have had in conserving time for reading and thought. 

4. In the manner of a reporter or investigator, go out 


and get first-hand information on some subject of interest 
to the public. Arrange the results of your research in the 
form of an outline, or brief. 

5. From a private or a public library gather enough 
authoritative material on one of the following questions 
to build an outline for a twenty-minute address. Take 
one definite side of the question, (a) ''The Housing of 
the Poor;" (6) "The Commission Form of Government 
for Cities as a Remedy for Political Graft;" (c) "The 
Test of Woman's Suffrage in the West;" (rf) "Present 
Trends of Public Taste in Reading;" (e) "Municipal 
Art;" (/) "Is the Theatre Becoming more Elevated in 
Tone?" (g) "The Effects of the Magazine on Litera- 
ture;" (A) "Does Modern Life Destroy Ideals?" (i) "Is 
Competition 'the Life of Trade?' " (j) "Baseball is too 
Absorbing to be a Wholesome National Game;" (k) 
"Summer Baseball and Amateur Standing;" (/) "Does 
Collie Training Unfit a Woman for Domestic Life?" 
(m) "Does Woman's Competition with Man in Business 
Dull the Spirit of Chivaby? " («) "Are Elective Studies 
Suited to High School Courses?" (o) "Does the Modem 
College Prepare Men for Preeminent Leadership?" (p) 
"The Y. M. C. A. in Its Relation to the Labor Problem;" 
iq) "Public Speaking as Training in Citizenship." 

6. Construct the outline, examining it carefully for 
interest, convincing character, proportion, and climax 
of arrangement. 

Note: — ^This exercise should be repeated until the 
student shows facility in synthetic arrangement. 

7. Deliver the address, if possible before an audience. 


8. Make a three-hundred word report on the restilts, 
as best you are able to estimate them. 

9. Tell something of the benefits of using a periodical 
(or cumulative) index. 

10. Give a number of quotations, suitable for a 
speaker's use, that you have memorized in off moments. 

11. In the manner of the outline on page 213, analyze 
the address on pages 78-79, "The History of Liberty." 

12. Give an outline analysb, from notes or memory, of 
an address or sermon to which you have listened for this 

13. Criticise the address from a structural point of 

14. Invent titles forjany five of the themes in Exer- 
cise 5. 

15. Criticise the titles of any five chapters of this book, 
suggesting better ones. 

16. Criticise the title of any lecture or address of which 
you know. 



Speak not at all, in any wise, till you have somewhat to speak; 
care not for the reward of your speaking, but simply and with 
undivided mind for the truth of your speaking. 

— ^Thomas Casltlb, Essay on Biography. 

A complete discussion of the rhetorical structure of 
public speeches requires a fuller treatise than can be un- 
dertaken in a work of this nature, yet in this chapter, and 
in the succeeding ones on "Description," "Narration," 
"Argument," and "Pleading," the underlying principles 
are given and explained as fully as need be for a working 
knowledge, and adequate book references are given for 
those who wotild perfect themselves in rhetorical art. 

The Nature of ExposUion 

In the word "expose" — to lay bare, to uncover, to show 
the true inwardness of— we see the foundation-idea of 
"Exposition." It is the dear and precise setting forth of 
what the subject really is — ^it is explanation. 

Exposition does not draw a picture, for that would be 
description. To tell in exact terms what the automobile 
is, to name its characteristic parts and explain their 
workings, would be exposition; so would an explanation 
of the nature of "fear." But to create a mental image of 
a particular automobile, with its glistening body, grace- 


fill lines, and great speed, wotild be description; and so 
would a picturing of fear acting on the emotions of a child 
at night. Exposition and description often intermingle 
and overiap, but fundamentally they are distinct. Their 
differences will be touched upon again in the chapter on 

Exposition furthermore does not include an account of 
how events happened — that is narration. When Peary 
lectured on his polar discoveries he explained the instru- 
ments used for determining latitude and longitude — ^that 
was exposition. In picturing his equipment he used 
description. In telling of his adventures day by day he 
employed narration. In supporting some of his conten- 
tions he used argument. Yet he mingled all these forms 
throughout the lecture. 

Neither does exposition deal with reasons and infer- 
ences — ^that is the field of argument. A series of connected 
statements intended to convince a prospective buyer that 
one automobile is better than another, or proofs that 
the appeal to fear is a wrong method of discipline, would 
not be exposition. The plain facts as set forth in exposi- 
tory speaking or writing are nearly always the basis of 
argument, yet the processes are not one. True, the state- 
ment of a single significant fact without the addition of 
one other word may be convincing, but a moment's 
thought will show that the inference, which completes a 
chain of reasoning, is made in the mind of the hearer and 
presupposes other facts held in consideration.^ 

In like manner, it is obvious that the field of persuasion 

'Aigmnwrtfttion will bo outliiMd folly in m subflequmt ohapttr. 


is not open to exposition, for exposition is entirely 
an intellectual process, with no emotional element. 

The Importance of Exposition 

The importance of exposition in public speech is pre- 
cisely the importance of setting forth a matter so plainly 
that it cannot be misimderstood. 

"To master the process of exposition is to become a dear 
thinker. ' I know, when you do not ask me*'^ replied a gentleman 
upon being requested to define a highly complex idea. Now some 
large concepts defy explicit definition; but no mind should take 
refuge behind such exceptions, for where definition fails, other 
forms succeed. Sometimes we feel confident that we have per- 
fect mastery of an idea, but when the time comes to express it, 
the clearness becomes a haze. Exposition, then, is the test of 
dear understanding. To speak effectively you must be able to 
see your subject clearly and comprehensively, and to make your 
audience see it as you do."* 

There are pitfalls on both sides of this path. To explain 
too little will leave your audience in doubt as to what you 
mean. It is useless to argue a question if it is not per- 
fectly clear just what is meant by the question. Have 
you never come to a blind lane in conversation by find- 
ing that you were talking of one aspect of a matter while 
your friend was thinking of another? If two do not agree 
in their definitions of a Musician, it is useless to dispute 
over a certain man's right to claim the title. 

On the other side of the path lies the abyss of tediously 
explaining too much. That offends because it impresses 
the hearers that you either do not respect their intelligence 

^Th€ Working PrincijtaJU of Rhetoric, J. F. Qenuns 
*Hoi0 to Attract and HoU an Audienee, J. Bers E^nwaiii. 


or are trying to blow a breeze into a tornado. Carefully 

estimate the probable knowledge of your audience, both 

in general and of the particular point you are explaining. 

In trying to simplify, it is fatal to "sillify." To explain 

more than is needed for the purposes of your argument or 

appeal is to waste energy all around. In your efforts to be 

explicit do not press exposition to the extent of dulness — 

the confines are not far distant and you may arrive before 

you know it. 

Som e Purposes of Exposition 

From what has been said it ought to be clear that, 
primarily, exposition weaves a cord of imderstanding be- 
tween you and your audience. It lays, furthermore, a 
foundation of fact on which to build later statements, 
argmnents, and appeals. In scientific and purely "in- 
formation" speeches exposition may exist by itself and 
for itself, as in a lecture on biology, or on psychology; 
but in the vast majority of cases it is used to accompany 
and prepare the way for the other forms of discourse. 

Clearness, precision, accuracy, unity, truth, and neces- 
sity — ^these must be the constant standards by which you 
test the efficiency of your expositions, and, indeed, that 
of every explanatory statement. This dictum should be 
written on your brain in letters most plain. And let this 
apply not alone to the purposes of exposition but in equal 
measure to your use of the 

Methods of Exposition 

The various ways along which a speaker may proceed 
in exposition are likely to touch each other now and then, 


and even when they do not meet and actually overlap, 
they run so nearly parallel that the roads are sometimes 
distinct rather in theory than in any more practical 

Definition^ the primary expository method, is a state- 
ment of precise limits.^ Obviously, here the greatest care 
must be exercised that the terms of definition should not 
themselves demand too much definition; that the lan- 
guage should be concise and dear; and that the definition 
should neither exclude nor include too much. The fol- 
lowing is a simple example: 

To expound is to set forth the nature, the significance, the 
characteristics, and the bearing of an idea or a group of ideas. 

— ^Arlo Bates, Talks an Writing English. 

Contrast and Antithesis are often used effectively to 
amplify definition, as in this sentence, which inmiediatdy 
follows the above-dted definition: 

Exposition therefore differs from Description in that it deals 
directly with the meaning or intent of its subject instead of with 
its appearance. 

This antithesis forms an expansion of the definition, 
and as such it might have been still further extended. In 
fact, this is a frequent practise in public speech, where the 
minds of the hearers often ask for rdteration and expanded 
statement to help them grasp a subject in its several 
aspects. This is the very heart of exposition — to amplify 
and clarify all the terms by which a matter is defined. 

^On the varioua types of definitioii see any ooUace m&niial of 


Example is another method of amplifying a definition 
or of expounding an idea more fully. The following sen- 
tences inmiediately succeed Mr. Bates's definition and 
contrast just quoted: 

A good deal which we are accustomed inexactly to call de- 
scription is reaUy exposition. Suppose that your small boy 
wishes to know how an engine works, and should say: "Please 
describe the steam-engine to me." If you insist on taking his 
words literally — and are willing to run the risk of his indigna- 
tion at being wilfully misunderstood — ^you will to the best of 
your ability picture to him this familiarly wonderful machine. 
If you explain it to him, you are not describing but expounding it. 

The chief value of example is that it makes clear the 
unknown by referring the mind to the known. Readiness 
of mind to make illuminating, apt comparisons for the 
sake of clearness is one of the speaker's chief resoiurces on 
the platform — ^it is the greatest of all teaching gifts. It 
is a gift, moreover, that responds to cultivation. Read 
the three extracts from Arlo Bates as their author de- 
livered them, as one passage, and see how they melt into 
one, each part supplementing the other most helpfully. 

Analogyy which calls attention to similar relationships 
in objects not otherwise similar, is one of the most useful 
methods of exposition. The following striking specimen 
is from Beecher's Liverpool speech: 

A savage is a man of one story, and that one story a cellar. 
When a man begins to be civilized he raises another story. When 
you christianize and civilize the man, you put story upon story, 
for you develop facility after faculty; and you have to supply 
every story with your productions. 


Discarding is a less common form of platform explana- 
tion. It consists in clearing away associated ideas so that 
the attention may be centered on the main thought to be 
discussed. Really, it is a n^ative factor in exposition, 
though a most important one, for it is fundamental to 
the consideration of an intricately related matter that 
subordinate and side questions should be set aside in order 
to bring out the main issue. Here is an example of the 

I cannot allow myself to be led aside from the only issue before 
this jury. It is not pertinent to consider that this prisoner is 
the husband of a heartbroken woman and that his babes will go 
through the world under the shadow of the law's extremest 
penalty worked upon their father. We must forget the venerable 
father and the mother whom Heaven in pity took before she 
learned of her son's disgrace. What have these matters of heart, 
what have the blenched faces of his friends, what have the 
prisoner's long and honorable career to say before this bar 
when you are sworn to weigh only the direct evidence before you? 
The one and only question for you to decide on the evidence is 
whether this man did with revengeful intent commit the murder 
that every impartial witness has solemnly laid at his door. 

Classification assigns a subject to its class. By an 
allowable extension of the definition it may be said to 
assign it also to its order, genus, and species. Classifica- 
tion is useful in public speech in narrowing the issue to a 
desired phase. It is equally valuable for showing a thing 
in its relation to other things, or in correlation. Classifica- 
tion is dosely akin to Definition and Division. 

This question of the liquor traffic, sirs, takes its place beside 
the grave moral issues of all times. Whatever be its economic 


significance — and who is there to question it — ^whatever vital 
bearing it has upon our political system — and is there one who 
will deny it? — ^the question of the licensed saloon must quickly 
be settled as the world in its advancement has settled the ques- 
tions of constitutional government for the masses, of the opium 
txaffic, of the serf, and of the slave — not as matters of economic 
and political expediency but as questions of right and wrong. 

Analysis separates a subject into its essential parts. 
This it may do by various principles; for example, 
analysis may follow the order of time (geologic eras), 
order of place (geographic facts), logical order (a sermon 
outline), order of increasing interest, or procession to 
a climax (a lecture on 20th century poets); and so on. 
A classic example of analytical exposition is the following: 

In philosophy the contemplations of man do either penetrate 
unto God, or are circumferred to nature, or are reflected or 
reverted upon himself. Out of which several inquiries there do 
arise three knowledges: divine philosophy, natural philosophy, and 
human philosophy or humanity. For all things are marked and 
stamped with this triple character, of the power of God, the 
difference of nature, and the use of man. 

— Lord Bacon, The Advancement of Learning.^ 

Division differs only from analysis in that analysis fol- 
lows the inherent divisions of a subject, as illustrated in 
the foregoing passage, while division arbitrarily separates 
the subject for convenience of treatment, as in the follow- 
ing none-too-logical example: 

For civil history, it is of three kinds; not unfitly to be com- 
pared with the three kinds of pictures or images. For of pictures 
or images, we see some are unfinished, some are perfect, and some 
are defaced. So of histories we may find three kinds, memorials, 

iQuoted in Th^ Wcrking PrineipUt of Rhtiorie, J. F. Qenung. 


perfect histories, and antiqtiities; for memorials are history un- 
finished, Jor the first or rough drafts of history; and antiquities 
axe history defaced, or some remnants of history which have 
casually escaped the shipwreck of time. 

— ^LoKD Bacon, The Advancement of Learning,^ 

Generalization states a broad principle, or a general 
truth, derived from examination of a considerable num- 
ber of individual facts. This synthetic exposition is not 
the same as argumentative generalization, which supports 
a general contention by dting instances in proof. 
Observe how Holmes begins with one fact, and by adding 
another and another reaches a complete whole. This is 
one of the most effective devices in the public speaker's 

Take a hollow cylinder, the bottom closed while the top remains 
open, and pour in water to the height of a few inches. Next 
cover the water with a flat plate or piston, which fits the interior 
of the cylinder perfectly; then apply heat to the water, and we 
shall witness the following phenomena. After the lapse of some 
minutes the water will begin to boil, and the steam accumulating 
at the upper surface will make room for itself by raising the piston 
slightly. As the boiling continues, more and more steam will be 
formed, and raise the piston higher and higher, till all the water 
is boiled away, and nothing but steam is left in the cylinder. 
Now this machine, consisting of cylinder, piston, water, and fire, 
is the steam-engine in its most elementary form. For a steam- 
engine may be defined as an apparatus for doing work by means 
of heat applied to water; and since raising such a weight as the 
piston is a form of doing work, this apparatus, clumsy and incon- 
venient though it may be, answers the definition precisely.' 

Reference to Experience is one of the most vital princi- 
ples in exposition — as in every other form of discourse. 

iQuoted in The WorkiJig PrincipUt of Bkelorie, J. F. Oenung . 
*Q. C. v. Holmes, quoted in Specim$n9 of iffxpontion, H. Lamoni. 


^'Reference to experience, as here used, means reference 
to the known. The known is that which the listener has 
seen, heard, read, felt, believed or done, and which still 
exists in his consciousness — ^his stock of knowledge. It 
embraces all those thoughts, feelings and happenings 
which are to him real. Reference to Experience, then, 
means coming into ike listener's life.^ 

The vast results obtained by science are won by no mystical 
faculties, by no mental processes, other than those which are 
practised by every one of us in the humblest and meanest affairs 
of life. A detective policeman discovers a burglar from the 
marks made by his shoe, by a mental process identical with that 
by which Cuvier restored the extinct animals of Montmartre 
from fragments of their bones. Nor does that process of induc- 
tion and deduction by which a lady, finding a stain of a particular 
kind upon her dress, concludes that somebody has upset the ink- 
stand thereon, differ in any way from that by which Adams and 
Leverrier discovered a new planet. The man of science, ia fact, 
simply uses with scruptdous exactness the methods which we all 
habitually, and at every moment, use carelessly. 

— Thomas Henry Huxley, lAiy Sermons. 

Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are 
written down old with all the characters of age? Have you not 
a moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheek? a white beard? a de- 
creasing leg? an increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your 
wind short? your chin double? your wit single? and every part 
about you blasted with antiquity? and will you yet call yourself 
young? Pie, fie, fie, Sir John! 

— Shakespbarb, The Merry Wives of Windsor. 

Finally, in preparing expository material ask yourself 
these questions regarding your subject: 

^Effective Sp^akinot Arthur Edward Phillips. This woA oovers the praiM- 
mtion of public speaoh in a vwy helpful way. 


What is it, and what is it not? 
What is it like, and unlike? 
What are its causes, and effects? 
How shall it be divided? 
With what subjects is it correlated? 
What experiences does it recall? 
What examples illustrate it? 


1. What would be the effect of adhering to any one of 
the forms of discourse in a public address? 

2. Have you ever heard such an address? 

3. Invent a series of examples illustrative of the dis- 
tinctions made on pages 232 and 233. 

4. Make a list of ten subjects that might be treated 
largely, if not entirely, by exposition. 

5. Name the six standards by which expository 
writing should be tried. 

6. Define any one of the following : (a) storage battery; 
(6) "a free hand;" (c) sail boat; (d) "The Big Stick;" 
(e) nonsense; (J) "a good sport;" (g) short-story; (4) 
novel; (i) newspaper; (j) politician; (k) jealousy; (I) 
truth; (m) mating girl; (n) collie honor system; 
(0) modish; (j>) slum; (g) settlement work; (r) forensic 

7. Amplify the definition by antithesis. 

8. Invent two examples to illustrate the definition 
(question 6). 

9. Invent two analogies for the same subject (ques- 
tion 6). 


ID. Make a short speech based on one of the following: 
(a) wages and salary; (b) master and man; (c) war and 
p^ce; (d) home and the boarding house; {e) struggle 
and victory; (/) ignorance and ambition. 

11. Make a ten-minute speech on any of the topics 
named in question 6, using all the methods of exposition 
already named. 

12. Explain what is meant by discarding topics col- 
lateral and subordinate to a subject. 

13. Rewrite the jury-speech on page 224. 

14. Define correlation. 

15. Write an example of "classification," on any 
political, social, economic, or moral issue of the day. 

16. Make a brief analytical statement of Henry W. 
Grady^s "The Race Problem," page 36. 

17. By what analytical principle did you proceed? 
(See page 225.) 

18. Write a short, carefully generalized speech from 
a large amoimt of data on one of the following subjects: 
(a) The servant girl problem; (b) cats; (c) the baseball 
craze; (d) reform administrations; (e) sewing societies; 
(/) coeducation; (g) the traveling salesman. 

19. Observe this passage from Newton's "EflFective 

"That man is a cynic. He sees goodness nowhere. He sneers 
at virtue, sneers at love; to him the maiden plighting her troth 
18 an artful schemer, and he sees even in the mother's kiss nothing 
but an empty conventionality." 

Write, commit and deliver two similar passages based 
on your choice from this list: (a) "the ^otist;" (6) "the 


sensualist;" (c) "the hypocrite;" (<0 "the timid man;" 
(«) "the joker;" (/)"the ffirt;" (g) "the ungrateful 
woman;" (k) "the mournful man." In both cases use 
the principle of "Reference to Experience." 

20. Write a passage on any of the foregoing characters 
in imitation of the style of Shakespeare's characteriza- 
tion of Sir John Falstaff, page 227. 



The groves of Eden vanish'd now so long, 
Live in description, and look green in song. 

— ^Alexander Pope, Windsor Forest. 

The moment our discourse rises above the ground-line of 
familiar facts, and is inflamed with passion or exalted thought, 
it clothes itself in images. A man conversing in earnest, if he 
watch his intellectual processes, will find that always a material 
image, more or less luminous, arises in his mind, contemporane^ 
ous with every thought, which furnishes the vestment of the 
thought. . . . This imagery is spontaneous. It is the 
blending of experience with the present action of the mind. It 
is proper creation. — Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature, 

Like other valuable resources in public speaking, de- 
scription loses its power when carried to an extreme. 
Over-ornamentation makes the subject ridiculous. A 
dust-cloth is a very useful thing, but why embroider it? 
Whether description shall be restrained within its proper 
and important limits, or be encouraged to run riot, is the 
personal choice that comes before every speaker, for 
man's earliest literary tendency is to depict. 

Tke Nature of Description 

To describe is to caU up a picture in the mind of the 
hearer. "In talking of description we naturally speak of 
portra3dng, delineating, coloring, and all the devices of 
the picture painter. To describe is to visualize, hence we 


must look at description as a pictorial process, whether 
the writer deab with material or with spiritual objects."* 

If you were asked to describe the rapid-fire gun you 
might go about it in either of two ways: give a cold techni- 
cal account of its mechanism, in whole and in detail, or 
else describe it as a terrible engine of slaughter, dwelling 
upon its effects rather than upon its structure. 

The former of these processes is exposition, the latter 
is true description. Exposition deals more with the gefp- 
eral, while description must deal with the particular. 
Exposition elucidates ideas, description treats of things. 
Exposition deals with the abstract, description with the 
concrete. Exposition is concerned with the internal, de- 
scription with the external. Exposition is enumerative, 
description literary. Exposition is intellectual, description 
sensory. Exposition is impersonal, description personal. 

If description is a visualizing process for the hearer, it 
is first of all such for the speaker — ^he cannot describe 
what he has never seen, eitlier physically or in fancy. It is 
this personal quality — this question of the personal eye 
which sees the things later to be described — ^that makes 
description .so interesting in public speech. Given a 
speaker of personality, and we are interested in his per- 
sonal view — his view adds to the natural interest of the 
scene, and may even be the sole source of that interest to 
his auditors. 

The seeing eye has been praised in an earlier chapter 
(on "Subject and Preparation") and the imagination will 
be treated in a subsequent one (on "Riding the Winged 

^WriUno the ShortStonf, J. Beii Etenwein. 



Horse ")> but here we must consider the fncturing mind: 
the mind that forms the double habit of seeing things 
dearly — ^for we see more with the mind than we do with 
the physical eye — ^and then of re-imaging these things for 
the purpose of getting them before the minds' eyes of the 
hearers. No habit is more useful than that of visualizing 
clearly the object, the scene, the situation, the action, the 
person, about to be described. Unless that primary 
process is carried out dearly, the picture will be bliured 
for the hearer-beholder. 

In a work of this nature we are concerned with the 
rhetorical analysis of description, and with its methods, 
only so far as may be needed for the practical purposes of 
the speaker.^ The following grouping, therefore, will not 
be r^arded as complete, nor will it here be necessary to 
add more than a word of explanation: 

for J 







In motion 
f Induding action 

{Preceding change 
During change 
After change 

( Physical 



>For fuller tiefttmeDt of DMOiiption tee Qonunc'i Working PrineipUt of 
ic, Albright's Dtaerivtiw WriUng, Batw' Taiko on Writing Sn^ith, lirrt 
and woond sniM, sad may advanood liietorio. 


Some of the f or^;oing processes will overlap, in certain 
instances, and all are more likely to be found in combina- 
tion than singly. 

When description is intended solely to give accurate 
information — as to delineate the appearance, not the 
technical construction, of the latest Zeppelin airship — it 
is caUed '^scientific description," and is akin to exposition. 
When it is intended to present a free picture for the pur- 
pose of making a vivid impression, it is called "artistic 
description." With both of these the public speaker has 
to deal, but more frequently with the latter form. Rhetori- 
cians make still further distinctions. 

Methods of Description 

In public speaking, description should be mainly by 
suggestiony not only because suggestive description is so 
much more compact and time-saving but because it is so 
vivid. Suggestive expressions connote more than they 
literally say — ^they suggest ideas and pictures to the mind 
of the hearer which supplement the direct words of the 
speaker. When Dickens, in his "Christmas Carol," says: 
"In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile," 
our minds complete the picture so deftly begun — a much 
more effective process than that of a minutely detailed 
description because it leaves a unified, vivid impression, 
and that is what we need. Here is a present-day bit of 
suggestion: "General Trinkle was a gnarly oak of a man 
— rough, solid, and safe; you always knew where to find 
him." Dickens presents Miss Peecher as: "A little pin- 
cushion, a little housewife, a little book, a little work-box, 


a little set of tables and weights and measures, and a little 
woman all in one." In his '^Ejiickerbocker's" "History 
of New York," Irving portrays Wouter van Twiller as 
^'a robustious beer-barrel, standing on skids." 

Whatever forms of description you n^lect, be sure to 
master the art of suggestion. 

Description may be by simple hint, Lowell notes a happy 
instance of this sort of picturing by intimation when he 
says of Chaucer: "Sometimes he describes amply by the 
merest hint, as where the Friar, before setting himself 
down, drives away the cat. We know without need of 
more words that he has chosen the snuggest comer." 

Description may depict a thing by its effects, "When the 
spectator's eye is dazzled, and he shades it," says Mozley 
in his "Essays," "we form the idea of a splendid object; 
when his face turns pale, of a horrible one; from his quick 
wonder and admiration we form the idea of great beauty; 
from his silent awe, of great majesty." 

Brief description may be by epithet, "Blue-eyed," 
"white-armed," "laughter-loving," are now conventional 
compoimds, but they were fresh enough when Homer first 
conjoined them. The centuries have not yet improved 
upon "Wheels roimd, brazen, eight-spoked," or "Shields 
smooth, beautiful, brazen, well-hammered." Observe 
the effective use of epithet in Will Levington Comfort's 
"The Fighting Death," when he speaks of soldiers 
in a Philippine skirmish as being "leeched against a 

Description uses figures of speech. Any advanced 
rhetoric will discuss their forms and give examples for 


guidance.^ This matter is most important, be assured. 
A brilliant yet carefully restrained figurative style, a 
style marked by brief, pimgent, witty, and humorous 
comparisons and characterizations, is a wonderful re- 
source for all kinds of platform work. 

Description may be direct. This statement is plain 
enough without exposition. Use your own judgment as 
to whether in pictiuing you had better proceed from a 
general view to the details, or first give the details and 
thus build up the general picture, but by all means be 


Note the vivid compactness of these delineations from 
Washington Irving's "Knickerbocker:" 

He was a short, square, brawny old gentleman, with a double 
chin, a mastiff mouth, and a broad copper nose, which was sup- 
posed in those days to have acquired its fiery hue from the con- 
stant neighborhood of his tobacco pipe. 

He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five 
inches in circumference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of 
such stupendous dimensions, that Dame Nature, with all her 
sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct a neck 
capable of supporting it; wherefore she wisely declined the at- 
tempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his backbone, just 
between the.'shotdders. His body was of an oblong form, par- 
ticularly capacious at bottom; which was wisely ordered by 
Providence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary habits, and 
very averse to the idle labor of walking. 

The forgoing is too long for the platform, but it is so 
good-humored, so full of delightful exaggeration, that it 

>86e also Ths AH of F«rn^Me»o», J. Beii EMnwwn aad Mary Etoaaor 
Roberta, pp. 2&4U(; and IfrOina <A« ShorirSUny, J. Beii Esenwein, pp. 153- 
182; 231-340. 


may well serve as a model of humorous character picturing^ 
for here one inevitably sees the inner man in the outer. 

Direct description for platform use may be made vivid 
by the sparing use of the "historical present." The fol- 
lowing dramatic passage, accompanied by the most lively 
action, has lingered in the mind for thirty years after 
hearing Dr. T. De Witt Talmage lecture on "Big 
Blunders." The crack of the bat sounds clear even today: 

Get ready the bats and take your positions. Now, give us 
the ball. Too low. Don't strike. Too high. Don't strike. 
There it comes like lightning. Strike! Away it soars! Higher! 
Higher! Run! Another base! Faster! Faster! Good! All 
around at one stroke! 

Observe the remarkable way in which the lecturer 
fused speaker, audience, spectators, and players into one 
excited, ecstatic whole — ^just as you have found yourself 
starting forward in your seat at the delivery of the ball with 
"three on and two down" in the ninth inning. Notice, 
too, how — ^perhaps unconsciously — ^Talmage painted the 
scene in Homer's characteristic style: not as having 
already happened, but as happening before your eyes. 

If you have attended many travel talks you must have 
been impressed by the painful extremes to which the 
lecturers go — ^with a few notable exceptions, their lan- 
guage is either over-ornate or crude. If you would learn 
the power of words to make scenery, yes, even houses, 
palpitate with poetry and human appeal, read Lafcadio 
Heam, Robert Louis Stevenson, Pierre Loti, and Edmondo 
De Amicis. 


Blue-distant, a mountain of carven stone appeared befote 
them, — ^the Temple, lifting to heaven its wilderness of chiseled 
pinnacles, flinging to the sky the golden spray of its decoration. 

— Lafcadio Hbarn, Chinese Ghosts. 

The stars were clear, colored, and jewel-like, but not frosty. 
A faint silvery vapour stood for the Milky Way. All around me 
the black fir-points stood upright and stock-still. By the white- 
ness of the pack-saddle I could see Modestine walking round and 
round at the length of her tether; I could hear her steadily 
munching at the sward; but there was not another sound save 
the indescribable quiet talk of the runnel over the stones. 

— Robert Louis Stevenson, Travels with a Donkey. 

It was full autumn now, late autumn — with the nightfalls 
gloomy, and all things growing dark early in the old cottage, and 
all the Breton land looking sombre, too. The very days seemed 
but twilight; immeasurable clouds, slowly passing, would sud- 
denly bring darkness at broad noon. The wind moaned con- 
stantly — ^it was like the sound of a great cathedral organ at a 
distance, but playing profane airs, or despairing dirges; at other 
times it would come close to the door, and lift up a howl like 
wild beasts. — Pierre Loti, An Iceland Fisherman. 

I see the great refectory,* where a battalion might have drilled; 
I see the long tables, the five himdred heads bent above the 
plates, the rapid motion of five hundred forks, of a thousand 
hands, and sixteen thousand teeth; the swarm of servants 
running here and there, called to, scolded, hurried, on every side 
at once; I hear the clatter of dishes, the deafening noise, the 
voices choked with food crying out: "Bread — ^bread!" and I 
feel once more the formidable appetite, the herculean strength 
of jaw, the exuberant life and spirits of those far-off days.* 

— Edmondo De Amicis, College Friends. 

Suggestions for the Use of Description 

Decide, on beginning a description, what point of view 
you wish your hearers to take. One cannot see either a 

an tho MiliUry College of Modena. 

iThis figure of speech is known as "Virion.** 


mountain or a man on all sides at once. Establish a 
view-point, and do not shift without giving notice. 

Choose an attitude toward your subject — shall it be 
idealized? caricatured? ridiculed? exs^erated? defended? 
or described impartially? 

Be sure of your mood, too, for it will color the subject 
to be described. Melancholy will make a rose-garden 
look gray. 

Adopt an order in which you will proceed — do not shift 
backward and forward from near to far, remote to close 
in time, general to particular, large to small, important to 
unimportant, concrete to abstract, physical to mental; 
but follow your chosen order. Scattered and shifting 
observations produce hazy impressions just as a moving 
camera spoils the time-exposure. 

Do not go into needless minutis. Some details identify 
a thing with its class, while other details differentiate it 
from its class. Choose only the significant, suggestive 
characteristics and bring those out with terse vividness. 
Learn a lesson from the few strokes used by the poster 

In determining what to describe and what merely to 
name, seek to read the knowledge of your audience. The 
difference to them between the unknown and the known 
is a vital one also to you. 

Relentlessly cut out all ideas and words not necessary 
to produce the effect you desire. Each element in a mental 
picture either helps or hinders. Be sure they do not 
hinder, for they cannot be passively present in any 


Interruptions of the description to make side-remarks 
are as powerful to destroy unity as are scattered descrip- 
tive phrases. The only visual impression that can be 
effective is one that is unified. 

In describing, try to call up the emotions you felt when 
first you saw the scene, and then try to reproduce those 
emotions in your hearers. Description is primarily 
emotional in its appeal; nothing can be more deadly dull 
than a cold, unemotional outline, while nothing leaves a 
warmer impression than a glowing, spirited description. 

Give a swift and vivid general view at the dose of the 
portrayal. First and final impressions remain the longest. 
The mind may be trained to take in the characteristic 
points of a subject, so as to view in a single scene, action, 
experience, or character, a unified impression of the whole. 
To describe a thing as a whole you must first see it as a 
whole. Master that art and you have mastered descrip- 
tion to the last degree. 



I went to Washington the other day, and I stood on the 
Capitol HiU; my heart beat quick as I looked at the towering 
marble of my cotmtry's Capitol and the mist gathered in my 
eyes as I thought of its tremendous significance, and the armies 
and the treasury, and the judges and the President, and the 
Congress and the courts, and all that was gathered there. And 
I felt that the sun in all its course could not look down on a better 
sight than that majestic home of a republic that had taught the 
world its best lessons of liberty. And I felt that if honor and 
wisdom and justice abided therein, the world would at last owe 
to that great house in which the ark of the covenant of my country 
is lodged, its final uplifting and its regeneration. 


Two days afterward, I went to visit a friend in the country, 
a modest man, with a quiet cotmtry home. It was just a simple, 
unpretentious house, set about with big trees, encircled in meadow 
and field rich with the promise of harvest. The fragrance of the 
pink and hollyhock in the front yard was mingled with the aroma 
of the orchard and of the gardens, and resonant with the cluck 
of poultry and the hum of bees. 

Inside was quiet, cleanliness, thrift, and comfort. There was 
the old clock that had welcomed, in steady measure, every new- 
comer to the family, that had ticked the solemn requiem of the 
dead, and had kept company with the watcher at the bedside. 
There were the big, restful beds and the old, open fireplace, and 
tlie old family Bible, thumbed with the fingers of hands long 
since still, and wet with the tears of eyes long since closed, hold- 
ing the simple annals of the family and the heart and the con- 
science of the home. 

Outside, there stood my friend, the master, a simple, upright 
man, with no mortgage on his roof, no lien on his growing crops, 
master of his land and master of himself. There was his old 
father, an aged, trembling man, but happy in the heart and home 
of his son. And as they started to their home, the hands of the 
old man went down on the young man's shoulder, laying there 
the unspeakable blessing of the honored and grateful father and 
ennobling it with the knighthood of the fifth commandment. 

And as they reached the door the old mother came with the 
sunset falling fair on her face, and lighting up her deep, patient 
eyes, while her lips, trembling with the rich music of her heart, 
bade her husband and son welcome to their home. Beyond was 
the housewife, busy with her household cares, clean of heart and 
conscience, the buckler and helpmeet of her husband. Down the 
lane came the children, trooping home after the cows, seeking 
as truant birds do the quiet of their home nest. 

And I saw the night come down on that house, falling gently 
as the wings of the unseen dove. And the old man — while a 
startled bird called from the forest, and the trees were shrill 
with the cricket's cry, and the stars were swarming in the sky — 
got the family around him, and, taking the old Bible from the 
table, called them to their knees, the little baby hiding in the 
folds of its mother's dress, while he closed the record of that 


simple day by calling down God's benediction on that family 
and that home. And while I gazed, the vision of that marble 
Capitol faded. Forgotten were its treasures and its majesty, 
and I said, " Oh, surely here in the homes of the people are lodged 
at last the strength and the responsibility of this government, 
the hope and the promise of this republic." — Hbnry W. Gradt. 


One thing in life calls for another; there is a fitness in events 
and places. The sight of a pleasant arbor puts it in our mind to 
sit there. One place suggests work, another idleness, a third 
early rising and long rEunbles in the dew. The effect of night, 
of any flowing water, of lighted cities, of the peep of day, of 
ships, of the open ocean, calls up in the mind an army of anony- 
mous desires and pleasures. Something, we feel, should happen; 
we know not what, yet we proceed in quest of it. And many of 
the happiest hours in life fleet by us in this vain attendance on 
the genius of the place and moment. It is thus that tracts of 
young fir, and low rocks that reach into deep soundings, particu- 
larly delight and torture me. Something must have happened 
in such places, and perhaps ages back, to members of my race; 
and when I was a child I tried to invent appropriate games for 
them, as I still try, just as vainly, to fit them with the proper 
story. Some places speak distinctly. Certain dank gardens 
cry aloud for a murder; certain old houses demand to be haimted ; 
certain coasts are set aside for shipwreck. Other spots again 
seem to abide their destiny, suggestive and impenetrable, "mich- 
ing maUecho." The inn at Burford Bridge, with its arbours and 
green garden and silent, eddying river — though it is known 
already as the place where Keats wrote some of his Endymion 
and Nelson parted from his Emma — still seems to wait the com- 
ing of the appropriate legend. Within these ivied walls, behind 
these old green shutters, some further business smoulders, waiting 
for its hour. The old Hawes Inn at the Queen's ferry makes a 
similar call upon my fancy. There it stands, apart from the 
town, beside the pier, in a climate of its own, half inland, half 
marine — in front, the ferry bubbling with the tide and the guard- 
ship swinging to her anchor; behind, the old garden with the 


trees. Americans seek it already for the sake of Lovel and Old- 
buck, who dined there at the beginning of the Antiquary. But 
you need not tell me — ^that is not all; there is some story, tm- 
recorded or not yet complete, which must express the meaning 
of that inn more fully. ... I have lived both at the Hawes 
and Burford in a perpetual flutter, on the heel, as it seemed, of 
some adventure that should justify the place; but though the 
feeling had me to bed at night and called me again at morning 
in one unbroken rotmd of pleasure and suspense, nothing befell 
me in either worth remark. The man or the hour had not yet 
come; but some day, I think, a boat shall put off from the 
Queen's ferry, fraught with a dear cargo, and some frosty night 
a horseman, on a tragic errand, rattle with his whip upon the 
green shutters at the inn at Burford. 

— ^R. L. Stbvbnson, a Gossip on Romance. 


Clang! Clang! Clang! the fire-bells! Bing! Bing! Bing! the 
alarm! In an instant quiet ttmis to uproar — an outburst of 
noise, excitement, clamor — ^bedlam broke loose; Bing! Bing! 
Bing! Rattle, dash and clatter. Open fly the doors; brave 
men mount their boxes. Bing! Bing! Bing! They're off! The 
horses tear down the street like mad. Bing! Bing! Bing! goes 
the gong! 

"Get out of the track! The engines are coming! For God's 
sake, snatch that child from the road!" 

On, on, wildly, resolutely, madly fly the steeds. Bing! Bing! 
the gong. Away dash the horses on the wings of fevered fury. 
On whirls the machine, down streets, around comers, up this 
avenue and across that one, out into the very bowels of dark- 
ness, whiffing, wheezing, shooting a million sparks from the 
stack, paving the path of startled night with a galaxy of stars. 
Over the house-tops to the north, a volcanic burst of flame 
shoots out, belching with blinding effect. The sky is ablaze. 
A tenement house is burning. Five htmdred souls are in peril. 
Merciful Heaven! Spare the victims! Are the engines coming? 
Yes, here they are, dashing down the street. Look! the horses 
ride upon the wind; eyes bulging like balls of fire; nostrils wide 


open. A palpitating billow of fire, rolling, plunging, bounding, 
rising, falling, swelling, heaving, and with mad passion bursting 
its red-hot sides asunder, reaching out its arms, encircling, 
squeezing, grabbing up, swallowing everything before it with 
the hot, greedy mouth of an appalling monster. 

How the horses dash around the comer! Animal instinct, 
say you? Aye, more. Brute reason. 

"Up the ladders, men!" 

The towering building is buried in bloated banks of savage, 
biting elements. Forked tongues dart out and in, dodge here 
and there, up and down, and wind their cutting edges around 
every object. A crash, a dull, explosive sound, and a puff of 
smoke leaps out. At the highest point upon the roof stands a 
dark figure in a desperate strait, the hands making frantic 
gestures, the arms swinging wildly — and then the body shoots 
off into frightful space, plunging upon the pavement with a 
revolting thud. The man's arm strikes a bystander as he darts 
down. The crowd shudders, sways, and utters a low murmur 
of pity and horror. The faint-hearted lookers-on hide their 
faces. One woman swoons away. 

"Poor fellow! Dead!" exclaims a laborer, as he looks upon 
the man's body. 

"Aye, Joe, and I knew him well, too! He lived next door to 
me, five flights back. He leaves a widowed mother and two wee 
bits of orphans. I helped him bury his wife a fortnight ago. 
Ah, Joe! but it's hard lines for the orphans." 

A ghastly hour moves on, dragging its regiment of panic in its 
trail and leaving crimson blotches of cruelty along the path of 

"Are they all out, firemen?" 

"Aye, aye, sir!" 

"No, they're not! There's a woman in the top window hold- 
ing a child in her arms — over yonder in the right-hand comer! 
The ladders, there! A hundred pounds to the man who makes 
the rescue!" 

A dozen start. One man more supple than the others, and 
reckless in his bravery, clambers to the top rung of the ladder. 

" Too short! " he cries. " Hoist another! " 

Up it goes. He mounts to the window, fastens the rope, lashes 


mother and babe, swings them off into ugly emptiness, and lets 
them down to be rescued by his comrades. 

"Bravo, fireman!" shouts the crowd. 

A crash breaks through the uproar of crackling timbers. 

"Look alive, up there! Great God! The roof has fallen!" 

The walls sway, rock, and tumble in with a deafening roar. 
The spectators cease to breathe. The cold truth reveals itself. 
The fireman has been carried into the seething furnace. An old 
woman, bent with the weight of age, rushes through the fire line, 
shrieking, raving, and wringing her hands and opening her heart 
of grief. 

"Poor John! He was all I had! And a brave lad he was, too! 
But he*s gone now. He lost his own life in savin' two more, and 
now— now he's there, away in there!" she repeats, pointing to 
the cruel oven. 

The engines do their work. The flames die out. An eerie 
gloom hangs over the ruins like a formidable, blackened pall. 

And the noon of night is passed. — ^Ardennes Jones-Foster. 


1. Write two paragraphs on one of these: the race 
horse, the motor boat, golfing, tennis; let the first be 
pure exposition and the second pure description. 

2. Select your own theme and do the same in two 
short extemporaneous speeches. 

3. Deliver a short original address in the over-orna- 
mented style. 

4. (a) Point out its defects; (b) recast it in a more 
effective style; (c) show how the one surpasses the other. 

5. Make a list of ten subjects which lend themselves 
to description in the style you prefer. 

6. Deliver a two-minute speech on any one of them, 
using chiefly, but not solely, description. 

7. For one minute, look at any object, scene, action, 


picture, or person you choose, take two minutes to arrange 
your thoughts, and then deliver a short description — all 
without making written notes. 

8. In what sense is description more personal than 

9. Explain the difference between a scientific and an 
artistic description. 

10. In the style of Dickens and Irving (pages 234, 235), 
write five separate sentences describing five characters by 
means of suggestion — one sentence to each. 

11. Describe a character by means of a hint, after the 
manner of Chaucer (p. 235). 

12. Read aloud the following with special attention 
to gesture: 

His very throat was moraL You saw a good deal of it. You 
looked over a very low fence of white cravat (whereof no man 
had ever beheld the tie, for he fastened it behind), and there it 
lay, a valley between two jutting heights of collar, serene and 
whiskerless before you. It seemed to say, on the part of Mr. 
Pecksniff, "There is no deception, ladies and gentlemen, aU is 
peace, a holy calm pervades me." So did his hair, just gnzzled 
with an iron gray, which was all brushed off his forehead, and 
stood bolt upright, or slightly drooped in kindred action with 
bis heavy eyelids. So did his person, which was sleek though 
free from corpulency. So did his manner, which was soft and 
oily. In a word, even his plain black suit, and state of widower, 
and dangling double eye-glass, all tended to the same purpose, and 
cried aloud, "Behold the moral Pecksniff!" 

— Charles Dickbns, MarHn Ckuwdewii, 

13. Which of the following do you prefer, and why? 

She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen, plump as a par- 
tridge, ripe and melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's 
peaches. — Irving. 


She was a splendidly femmine girl, as wholesome as a Novem- 
ber pippin, and no more mysterious than a window-pane. 

I Hbnry. 

Small, shining, neat, methodical, and buxom was Miss Peecher; 
cherry-cheeked and ttmeful of voice. — Dickens. 

14. Invent five epithets, and apply them as you choose 

(p. 23s). . 

15. (a) Make a list of five figures of speech; (b) de- 
fine them; (c) give an example — ^preferably original — 
under each. 

16. Pick out the figures of speech in the address by 
Grady, on page 240. 

17. Invent an original figure to take the place of any 
one in Grady's speech. 

18. What sort of figures do you find in the selection 
from Stevenson, on page 242? 

19. What methods of description does he seem to 

20. Write and deliver, without notes and with de- 
scriptive gestures, a description in imitation of any of the 
authors quoted in this chapter. 

21. Re&uunine one of your past speeches and improve 
the descriptive work. Report on what faults you found 
to exist. 

22. Deliver an extemporaneous speech describing any 
dramatic scene in the style of "Midnight in London." 

23. Describe an event in your favorite sport in the 
style of Dr. Talmage. Be careful to make the delivery 


24. Criticise^ favorably or unfavorably, the descriptions 
of any travel talk you may have heard recentiy. 

25. Deliver a brief original travel talk, as though you 
were showing pictures. 

26. Recast the talk and deliver it "without pictures." 



The art of narration is the art of writing in hooks and eyes. 
The principle consists in making the appropriate thought follow 
the appropriate thought, the proper fact the proper fact; in 
first preparing the mind for what is to come, and then letting it 
come. — Walter Bagehot, Literary Studies. 

Our very speech is curiously historical. Most men, you may 
observe, speak only to narrate; not in imparting what they have 
thought, which indeed were often a very small matter, but in 
exhibiting what they have undergone or seen, which is a quite 
unlimited one, do talkers dilate. Cut us off from Narrative, how 
would the stream of conversation, even among the wisest, lan- 
guish into detached handftds, and among the foolish utterly 
evaporate! Thus, as we do nothing but enact History, we say 
little but recite it. — ^Thomas Caklyle, On History. 

Only a small s^;ment of the great field of narration 
offers its resources to the public speaker, and that includes 
the anecdote, biographical facts, and the narration of 
events in general. 

Narration — more easily defined than mastered — ^is the 
recital of an incident, or a group of facts and occurrences, 
in such a manner as to produce a desired effect. 

The laws of narration are few, but its successful practise 
involves more of art than would at first appear — so much, 
indeed, that we cannot even touch upon its technique 
here, but must content ourselves with an examination of 
a few examples of narration as used in public speech. 


In a preliminary way, notice how radically the public 
speaker's use of narrative differs from that of the story- 
writer in the more limited scope, absence of extended 
dialogue and character drawing, and freedom from elabora- 
tion of detail, which characterize platform narrative. On 
the other hand, there are several similarities of method: 
the frequent combination of narration with exposition, 
description, argumentation, and pleading; the care 
exercised in the arrangement of material so as to produce 
a strong effect at the close (climax); the very general 
practise of concealing the "point" (denouement) of a story 
until the effective moment; and the careful suppression 
of needless, and therefore hurtful, details. 

So we see that, whether for magazine or platform, the 
art of narration involves far more than the recital of 
annals; the succession of events recorded requires a plan 
in order to bring them out with real effect. 

It will be noticed, too, that the literary style in plat- 
form narration is likely to be either less polished and more 
vigorously dramatic than in that intended for publication, 
or else more fervid and elevated in tone. In this latter 
respect, however, the best platform speaking of today 
differs from the models of the preceding generation, 
wherein a highly dignified, and sometimes pompous, style 
was thought the only fitting dress for a public deliverance. 
Great, noble and stirring as these older masters were in 
their lofty and impassioned eloquence, we are sometimes 
oppressed when we read their sounding periods for any 
great length of time — even allowing for all that we lose 
by missing the speaker's presence, voice, and fire. So let 


US model our platform narration, as our other forms of 
speech, upon the effective addresses of the modems, with- 
out lessening our admiration for the older school. 


An anecdote is a short narrative of a single event, told 
as being striking enough to bring out a point. The keener 
the point, the more condensed the form, and the more 
suddenly the application strikes the hearer, the better the 

To r^ard an anecdote as an illustration — an inter- 
pretive picture — ^will help to hold us to its true purpose, 
for a purposeless story is of all offenses on the platform 
the most asinine. A perfectly capital joke will fall fiat 
when it is dragged in by the nape without evident bearing 
on the subject under discussion. On the other hand, an 
apposite anecdote has saved many a speech from failure. 

"There is no finer opportimity for the display of tact 
than in the introduction of witty or humorous stories into 
a discourse. Wit b keen and like a rapier, piercing 
deeply, sometimes even to the heart. Htunor is good- 
natured, and does not wound. Wit is founded upon the 
sudden discovery of an unsuspected relation existing 
between two ideas. Humor deals with things out of rela- 
tion — ^with the incongruous. It was wit in Douglass 
Jerrold to retort upon the scowl of a stranger whose 
ahoidder he had familiarly slapped, mistaking him for 
a friend: 'I b% your pardon, I thought I knew you — 
but I'm glad I don't' It was humor in the Southern 
orator, John Wise, to liken the pleasure of spending an 


evening with a Puritan girl to that of sitting on a block of 
ice in winter, cracking hailstones between his teeth. "^ 

The forgoing quotation has been introduced chiefly 
to illustrate the first and simplest form of anecdote — the 
single sentence embodying a pungent saying. 

Another simple form is that which conveys its meaning 
without need of ''application/' as the old preachers used 
to say. George Ade has quoted this one as the best joke 
he ever heard: 

Two solemn-looking gentlemen were riding together in a 
railway carriage. One gentleman said to the other: "Is your 
wife entertaining this summer?" Whereupon the other gentle- 
man replied: "Not very." 

Other anecdotes need harnessing to the particular truth 
the speaker wishes to carry along in his talk. Sometimes 
the application is made before the story b told and the 
audience is prepared to make the comparison, point by 
point, as the illustration is told. Henry W. Grady used 
this method in one of the anecdotes he told while delivering 
his great extemporaneous address, "The New South." 

Age does not endow all things with strength and virtue, nor 
are all new things to be despised. The shoemaker who put over 
his door, "John Smith's shop, founded 1760," was more than 
matched by his young rival across the street who hung out this 
sign: "Bill Jones. Established 1886. No old stock kept in this 

In two anecdotes, told also in "The New South," Mr. 
Grady illustrated another way of enforcing the applica- 

^How to AUraei and Hold an Audience, J. Berc Eoenwwn 


tion: in both instances he split the idea he wished to 
drive home, bringing in part before and part after the 
recital of the story. The fact that the speaker misquoted 
the words of Genesis in which the Ark is described did not 
seem to detract from the burlesque humor of the story. 

I bespeak the utmost stretch of your courtesy tonight. I am 
not troubled about those from whom I come. You remember the 
man whose wife sent him to a neighbor with a pitcher of milk, 
who, tripping on the top step, fell, with such casual interruptions 
as the landings afforded, into the basement, and, while picking 
himself up, had the pleasure of hearing his wife call out: 

"John, did you break the pitcher? 

"No, I didn't," said John, "but I be dinged if I don't." 

So, while those who call to me from behind may inspire me 
with energy, if not with courage, I ask an indulgent hearing from 
you. I beg that you will bring your full faith in American fair- 
ness and frankness to judgment upon what I shall say. There 
was an old preacher once who told some boys of the Bible lesson 
he was going to read in the morning. The boys, finding the place, 
glued together the connecting pages. The next morning he read 
on the bottom of one page: "When Noah was one hundred and 
twenty years old he took unto himself a wife, who was" — then 
turning the page — "one hundred and forty cubits long, forty 
cubits wide, built of gopher wood, and covered with pitch inside 
and out." He was naturally puzzled at this. He read it again, 
verified it, and then said, " My friends, this is the first time I ever 
met this in the Bible, but I accept it as an evidence of the asser- 
tion that we are fearfully and wonderfully made." If I could get 
3rou to hold such faith to-night, I could proceed cheerfully to the 
task I otherwise approach with a sense of consecration. 

Now and then a speaker will plunge without introduc- 
tion into an anecdote, leaving the application to follow. 
The following illustrates this method: 

A large, slew-footed darky was leaning against the comer of 
the railroad station in a Texas town when the noon whistle in the 


canning factory blew and the hands hurried out, bearing their 
grub buckets. The darky listened, with his head on one sidei 
until the rocketing echo had quite died away. Then he heaved 
a deep sigh and remarked to himself: 

" Dar she go. Dinner time for some folks — ^but jes' 12 o'clock 
fur me!" 

That is the situation in thousands of American factories, large 
and small, today. And why? etc., etc. 

Doubtless the most frequent platform use of the anec- 
dote is in the pulpit. The sermon ''illustration," however, 
is not always strictly narrative in form, but tends to 
extended comparison, as the following from Dr. Alexander 

Men will stand as Indian fakirs do, with their arms above their 
heads until they stiffen there. They will perch themselves upon 
pillars like Simeon Stylites, for years, till the birds build their 
nests in their hair. They will measure all the distance from Cape 
Comorin to Juggernaut's temple with their bodies along the dusty 
road. They will wear hair shirts and scourge themselves. They 
will fast and deny themselves. They will build cathedrals and 
endow churches. They will do as many of you do, labor by fits 
and starts all thru your lives at the endless task of making your- 
selves ready for heaven, and winning it by obedience and by 
righteousness. They will do all these things and do them gladly^ 
rather than listen to the humbling message that says, "You do 
not need to do anything — ^wash." Is it your washing, or the 
water, that will clean you? Wash and be clean! Naaman's 
cleaning was only a test of his obedience, and a token that it was 
God who cleansed him. There was no power in Jordan's waters 
to takeaway the taint of leprosy. Our cleansing is in that blood 
of Jesus Christ that has the power to take away all sin, and to 
make the foulest amongst us pure and dean. 

One final word must be said about the introduction to 
the anecdote. A clumsy, inappropriate introduction is 


fatal, whereas a single apt or witty sentence will kindle 
interest and prepare a favorable hearing. The following 
extreme illustration, by the English humorist. Captain 
Harry Graham, well satirizes the stumbling manner: 

The best story that I ever heard was one that I was told once 
in the fall of 1905 (or it may have been 1906), when I was visiting 
Boston — at least, I think it was Boston; it may have been 
Washington (my memory is so bad). 

I happened to run across a most amusing man whose name I 
forget — ^Williams or Wilson or Wilkins; some name like that — 
and he told me this story while we were waiting for a trolley car. 

I can still remember how heartily I laughed at the time; and 
again, that evening, after I had gone to bed, how I laughed myself 
to sleep recalling the humor of this incredibly humorous story. 
It was really quite extraordinarily fimny. In fact, I can truth- 
fully affirm that it is quite the most amusing story I have ever 
had the privilege of hearing. Unfortunately, I've forgotten it. 

Biographical Facts 

Public speaking has much to do with personalities; 
naturally, therefore, the narration of a series of biographi- 
cal details, including anecdotes among the recital of in- 
teresting facts, plays a large part in the eulogy, the memo- 
rial address, the political speech, the sermon, the lecture, 
and other platform deliverances. Whole addresses may 
be made up of such biographical details, such as a sermon 
on "Moses," or a lecture on "Lee." 

The following example is in itself an expanded anecdote, 
forming a link in a chain: 


The peculiar sublimity of the Roman mind does not express 
itself, nor is it at all to be sought, in their poetry. Poetry, accord- 


ing to the Roman ideal of it, was not an adequate organ for the 
grander movements of the national mind. Roman sublimity 
must be looked for in Roman acts, and in Roman sayings. 
Where, again, ^Till you find a more adequate expression of the 
Roman majesty, than in the saying of Trajan — Imperatorem 
oporUre statUem mori — ^that Ccesar ought to die standing; a 
speech of imperatorial grandeur! Implying that he, who was 
"the foremost man of all this world," — and, in regard to all 
other nations, the representative of his own, — should express its 
characteristic virtue in his farewell act — should die in procindu — 
and should meet the last enemy as the first, with a Roman 
countenance and in a soldier's attitude. If this had an impera- 
torial — what follows had a consular majesty, and is almost the 
grandest story upon record. 

Marius, the man who rose to be seven times consul, was in a 
dungeon, and a slave was sent in with commission to put him 
to death. These were the persons, — ^the two extremities of 
exalted and forlorn humanity, its vanward and its rearward 
man, a Roman consul and an abject slave. But their natural 
relations to each other were, by the caprice of fortune, mon- 
strously inverted: the consul was in chains; the slave was for a 
moment the arbiter of his fate. By what spells, what magic, 
did Marius reinstate himself in his natural prerogatives? By 
what marvels drawn from heaven or from earth, did he, in the 
twinkling of an eye, again invest himself with the purple, and 
place between himself and his assassin a host of shadowy lictors? 
By the mere blank supremacy of great minds over weak ones. 
He fascinated the slave, as a rattlesnake does a bird. Standing 
**like Teneriffe," he smote him with his eye, and said, "Tune, 
homo, audes occidere C. Marium?** — "Dost thou, fellow, prestune 
to kill Caius Marius?" Whereat, the reptile, quaking under the 
voice, nor daring to affront the consular eye, sank gently to the 
groimd — turned round upon his hands and feet — ^and, crawling 
out of the prison like any other vermin, left Marius standing in 
solitude as steadfast and immovable as the capitol. 

— Thomas De Quincy. 

Here is a similar example, prefaced by a general his- 


torical statement and concluding with autobiographical 


One raw moming in spring — ^it will be eighty years the 19th 
day of this month — Hancock and Adams, the Moses and Aaron 
of that Great Deliverance, were both at Lexington; they also 
had "obstructed an officer" with brave words. British soldiers, 
a thousand strong, came to seize them and carry them over sea 
for trial, and so nip the bud of Freedom auspiciously opening in 
that early spring. The town militia came together before day- 
light, "for training." A great, tall man, with a large head and a 
high, wide brow, their captain, — one who had "seen service," — 
marshalled them into line, numbering but seventy, and bade 
" every man load his piece with powder and ball. I will order the 
first man shot that runs away," said he, when some faltered. 
"Don't fire unless fired upon, but if they want to have a war, 
let it begin here." 

Gentlemen, you know what followed; those farmers and 
mechanics "fired the shot heard round the world." A little 
monument covers the bones of such as before had pledged their 
fortune and their sacred honor to the Freedom of America, and 
that day gave it also their lives. I was bom in that little town, 
and bred up amid the memories of that day. When a boy, my 
mother lifted me up, one Sunday, in her religious, patriotic arms, 
and held me while I read the first monumental line I ever saw — 
"Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Mankind." 

Since then I have studied the memorial marbles of Greece and 
Rome, in many an ancient town; nay, on Egyptian obelisks 
have read what was written before the Eternal raised up Moses 
to lead Israel out of Egypt; but no chiseled stone has ever stirred 
me to such emotion as these rustic names of men who fell "In 
the Sacred Cause of God and their Country." 

Gentlemen, the Spirit of Liberty, the Love of Justice, were early 
fanned into a flame in my boyish heart. That monument covers 
the bones of my own kinsfolk; it was their blood which reddened 
the long, green grass at Lexington. It was my own name which 
stands chiseled on that stone; the. tall captain who marshalled 


his fellow fanners and mechanics into stem array, and spoke 
such brave and dangerous words as opened the war of American 
Independence, — the last to leave the field, — ^was my father's 
father. I learned to read out of his Bible, and with a musket he 
that day captured from the foe, I learned another religious 
lesson, that "Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God." I 
keep them both " Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Mankind,'* 
to use them both "In the Sacred Cause of God and my 
Country." — ^Theodorb Parker. 

Narration of EoetUs in General 

In this wider, emancipated narration we find much 
mingling of other forms of discourse, greatly to the advan- 
tage of the speech, for this truth cannot be too strongly 
emphasized: The efficient speaker cuts loose from form 
for the sake of a big, free effect. The present analyses are 
for no other purpose than to acquaint you with form — do 
not allow any such models to hang as a weight about your 

The following pure narration of events, from Greorge 
William Curtis's "Paul Revere's Ride," varies the bio- 
graphical redtal in other parts of his famous oration: 

That evening, at ten o'clock, eight hundred British troops, 
under Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, took boat at the foot of the 
Common and crossed to the Cambridge shore. Gage thought his 
secret had been kept, but Lord Percy, who had heard the people 
say on the Common that the troops would miss their aim, un- 
deceived him. Gage instantly ordered that no one should leave 
the town. But as the troops crossed the river, Ebenezer Dorr, 
with a message to Hancock and Adams, was riding over the Neck 
to Roxbury, and Paul Revere was rowing over the river to 
Charlestown, having agreed with his friend, Robert Newman, 
to show lanterns from the belfry of the Old North Church — " One 
if by land, and two if by sea" — as a signal of the march of the 


The following, from the same oration, beautifully 
mingles description with narration: 

It was a brilliant night. The winter had been unusually mild, 
and the spring very forward. The hills were already green. The 
early grain waved in the fields, and the air was sweet with the 
blossoming orchards. Already the robins whistled, the blue- 
birds sang, and the benediction of peace rested upon the land- 
scape. Under the cloudless moon the soldiers silently marched, 
and Paul Revere swiftly rode, galloping through Medford and 
West Cambridge, rousing every house as he went spurring for 
Lexington and Hancock and Adams, and evading the^ British 
patrols who had been sent out to stop the news. 

In the succeeding extract from another of Mr. Curtis's 
addresses, we have a free use of all^ory as illustration: 


There is a modem English picture which the genius of Haw- 
thorne might have inspired. The painter calls it, " How they met 
themselves." A man and a woman, haggard and weary, wander- 
ing lost in a somber wood, suddenly meet the shadowy figures of 
a youth and a maid. Some mysterious fascination fixes the gaze 
and stills the hearts of the wanderers, and their amazement 
deepens into awe as they gradually recognize themselves as once 
they were; the soft bloom of youth upon their rounded cheeks, 
the dewy light of hope in their trusting eyes, exulting confidence 
in their springing step, themselves blithe and radiant with the 
glory of the dawn. Today, and here, we meet ourselves. Not 
to these familiar scenes alone — ^yonder college-green with its 
reverend traditions; the halcyon cove of the Seekonk, upon which 
the memory of Roger Williams broods like a bird of calm; the 
historic bay, beating forever with the muffled oars of Barton and 
of Abraham Whipple; here, the humming city of the living; 
there, the peaceful city of the dead; — not to these only or chiefly 
do we return, but to ourselves as we once were. It is not the 
smiling freshmen of the year, it is your own beardless and un- 
wrinkled faces, that are looking from the windows of University 


Hall and of Hope Coll^^e. Under the trees upon the hill it is 
yourselves whom you see walking, full of hopes and dreams, 
glowing with conscious power, and "nourishing a youth sublime; " 
and in this familiar temple, which surely has never echoed with 
eloquence so fervid and inspiring as that of your commencement 
orations, it is not yonder youths in the galleries who, as they 
fondly believe, are whispering to yonder maids; it is your 
yotmger selves who, in the days that are no more, are murmuring 
to the fairest mothers and grandmothers of those maids. 

Happy the worn and weary man and woman in the picture 
could they have felt their older eyes stiU glistening with that 
earlier light, and their hearts yet beating with imdiminished 
sympathy and aspiration. Happy we, brethren, whatever may 
have been achieved, whatever left undone, if, returning to the 
home of our earlier years, we bring with us the illimitable hope, 
the unchilled resolution, the inextinguishable faith of youth. 

— George William Curtis. 


1. Clip from any source ten anecdotes and state what 
truths they may be used to illustrate. 

2. Deliver five of these in your own language, without 
making any application. 

3. From the ten, deliver one so as to make the implica- 
tion before telling the anecdote. 

4. Deliver another so as to split the application. 

5. Deliver another so as to make the application after 
the narration. 

6. Deliver another in such a way as to make a specific 
application needless. 

7. Give three ways of introducing an anecdote, by 
saying where you heard it, etc. 

8. Deliver an illustration that is not strictly an anec- 
dote, in the style of Curtis's speech on page 359. 


9. Deliver an address on any public character, using 
the forms illustrated in this chapter. 

ID. Deliver an address on some historical event in the 
same manner. 

11. Explain how the sympathies and viewpoint of the 
speaker will color an anecdote, a biography, or a historical 

12. Illustrate how the same anecdote, or a section of 
a historical address, may be given two different effects by 
personal prejudice. 

13. What would be the effect of shifting the viewpoint 
in the midst of a narration? 

14. What is the danger of using too much humor in 
an address? Too much pathos? 



Sometimes the feeling that a given way of looking at things is 
undoubtedly correct prevents the mind from thinking at all. 
. . . . In view of the hindrances which certain kinds or 
degrees of feeling throw into the way of thinking, it might be 
inferred that the thinker must suppress the element of feeling 
in the inner life. No greater mistake could be made. If the 
Creator endowed man with the power to think, to feel, and to 
will, these several activities of the mind are not designed to be in 
conflict, and so long as any one of them is not perverted or allowed 
to run to excess, it necessarily aids and strengthens the others 
in their normal functions. 

— Nathan C. Schaeffer, Thinking and Learning toJlUnk, 

When we weigh, compare, and decide upon the value 
of any given ideas, we reason; when an idea produces in 
us an opinion or an action, without first being subjected 
to deliberation, we are moved by suggestion. 

Man was formerly thought to be a reasoning animal, 
basing his actions on the conclusions of natural logic. It 
was supposed that before forming an opinion or deciding 
on a course of conduct he weighed at least some of the 
reasons for and against the matter, and performed a more 
or less simple process of reasoning. But modem research 
has shown that quite the opposite is true. Most of our 
opinions and actions are not based upon conscious reason- 
ing, but are the result of suggestion. In fact, some 
authorities declare that an act of pure reasoning is very 
rare in the average mind. Momentous decisions are made, 


far-readuDg actions are determined upon, primarily by 
the force of suggestion. 

Notice that word ''primarily/' for simple thought, and 
even mature reasoning, often follows a suggestion accepted 
in the mind, and the thinker fondly supposes that his con- 
clusion is from first to last based on cold logic. 

The Basis of Suggestion 

We must think of suggestion both as an effect and as a 
cause. Considered as an effect, or objectively, there must 
be something in the hearer that predisposes him to receive 
suggestion; considered as a cause, or subjectively, there 
must be some methods by which the speaker can move 
upon that particularly susceptible attitude of the hearer. 
How to do this honestly and fairly is our problem — to do 
it dishonestly and trickily, to use suggestion to bring 
about conviction and action without a basis of right and 
truth and in a bad cause, is to assume the terrible responsi- 
bility that must fall on the champion of error. Jesus 
scorned not to use suggestion so that he might move men 
to their benefit, but every vicious trickster has adopted 
the same means to reach base ends. Therefore honest 
men will examine well into their motives and into the 
truth of their cause, before seeking to influence men by 

Three fundamental conditions make us all susceptive to 

We naturally respect authority. In every mind this 
is only a question of degree, ranging from the subject 
who is easily hypnotized to the stubborn mind that forti- 


fies itself the more strongly with every assault upon its 
opinion. The latter type is almost immune to suggestion. 

One of the singular things about suggestion is that it is 
rarely a fixed quantity. The mind that is receptive to the 
authority of a certain person may prove inflexible to 
another; moods and environments that produce hypnosis 
readily in one instance may be entirely inoperative in 
another; and some minds can scarcely ever be thus moved. 
We do know, however, that the feeling of the subject that 
authority — ^influence, power, domination, control, what- 
ever you wish to call it — lies in the person of the suggester, 
is the basis of all suggestion. 

The extreme force of this influence is demonstrated in 
h3aioptism. The hjoioptic subject is told that he is in the 
water; he accepts the statement as true and makes swim- 
ming motions. He is told that a band is marching down 
the street,'^playing "The Star Spangled Banner;" he 
declares he hears the music, arises and stands with head 

In the]^same^way some speakers are able to achieve a 
modified hypnotic effect upon their audiences. The 
hearers^will.;,applaud measures and ideas which, after in- 
dividual reflection, they will repudiate unless such reflec- 
tion brings the^^conviction that the first impression is 

A second important principle is that owr fedings, 
thoughts and wills tend to follow the line of least resistance. 
Once open the mind to the sway of one feeling and it 
requires a greater power of feeling, thought,, or will — 
or even^all three — to unseat it. Our feelings influence 


our judgments and volitions much more than we care 
to admit. So true is this that it is a superhuman task 
to get an audience to reason fairly on a subject on which 
it feels deeply, and when this result is accomplished the 
success becomes noteworthy, as in the case of Henry 
Ward Beecher's Liverpool speech. Emotional ideas once 
accepted are soon cherished, and finally become our very 
inmost selves. Attitudes based on feelings alone are 

What is true of our feelings, in this respect, applies to 
our ideas: All thoughts that enter the mind tend to be 
accepted as truth unless a stronger and contradictory 
thought arises. 

The speaker skilled in moving men to action manages to 
dominate the minds of his audience with his thoughts by 
subtly prohibiting the entertaining of ideas hostile to his 
own. Most of us are captured by the latest strong attack, 
and if we can be induced to act while under the stress of 
that last insistent thoiight, we lose sight of counter in- 
fluences. The fact is that almost all our decisions — ^if they 
involve thought at all — are of this sort: At the moment 
of decision the course of action then under contemplation 
usiups the attention, and conflicting ideas are dropped 
out of consideration. 

The head of a large publishing house remarked only 
recently that ninety per cent of the people who bought 
books by subscription never read them. They buy be- 
cause the salesman presents his wares so skillfully that 
every consideration but the attractiveness of the book 
drops out of the mind, and that thought prompts action. 


Every idea that enters the mind wiU result in action unless 
a contradictory thought arises to prohibit it. Think of 
singing the musical scale and it will result in your singing 
it unless the counter-thought of its futility or absurdity 
inhibits your action. If you bandage and ''doctor" a 
horse's foot, he will go lame. You cannot think of swal- 
lowing, without the muscles used in that process being 
affected. You cannot think of saying ''hello/' without 
a slight movement of the muscles of speech. To warn 
children that they should not put beans up their noses 
is the surest method of getting them to do it. Every 
thought called up in the mind of your audience will work 
either for or against you. Thoughts are not dead matter; 
they radiate dynamic energy — ^the thoughts all tend to 
pass into action. "Thought is another name for 
fate." Dominate your hearers' thoughts, allay all con- 
tradictory ideas, and you will sway them as you wish. 

Volitions as well as feelings and thoughts tend to 
follow the line of least resistance. That is what makes 
habit. Suggest to a man that it is impossible to change his 
mind and in most cases it becomes more difficult to do so 
— ^the exception is the man who naturally jumps to the 
contrary. Counter suggestion is the only way to reach 
him. Suggest subtly and persistently that the opinions 
of those in the audience who are opposed to your views 
are changing, and it requires an effort of the will — ^in fact, 
a simimoning of the forces of feeling, thought and will — 
to stem the tide of change that has subconsciously set in. 

But, not only are we moved by authority, and tend to- 
ward channels of least resistance: We are all influenced by 


owr etmronmefUs, It is difficult to rise above the sway of 
a crowd — ^its enthusiasms and its fears are contagious be- 
cause they are suggestive. What so many feel, we say to 
ourselves, must have some basis in truth. Ten times ten 
makes more than one hundred. Set ten men to speaking 
to ten audiences of ten men each, and compare the aggre- 
gate power of those ten speakers with that of one man 
addressing one hundred men. The ten speakers may be 
more logically convincing than the single orator, but the 
chances are strongly in favor of the one man's reaching a 
greater total eflFect, for the hundred men will radiate 
conviction and resolution as ten small groups could 
not. We all know the truism about the enthusiasm of 
numbers. (See the chapter on "Influencing the Crowd.") 

Environment controls us unless the contrary is strongly 
suggested. A gloomy day, in a drab room, sparsely 
tenanted by listeners, invites platform disaster. Everyone 
feels it in the air. But let the speaker walk squarely up 
to the issue and suggest by all his feeling, manner and 
words that this is going to be a great gathering in every 
vital sense, and see how the suggestive power of environ- 
ment recedes before the advance of a more potent sugges- 
tion — ^if such the speaker is able to make it. 

Now these three factors — respect for authority, tend- 
ency to follow lines of least resistance, and susceptibility 
to environment — all help to bring the auditor into a state 
of mind favorable to suggestive influences, but they also 
react on the speaker, and now we must consider those 
personally causative, or subjective, forces which enable 
him to use suggestion effectively. 


How the Speaker Can Make Suggestion Effective 

We have seen that under the influence of authoritative 
suggestion the audience is inclined to accept the speaker's 
assertion without argument and criticism. But the audi- 
ence is not in this state of mind imless it has implicit con- 
fidence in the speaker. If they lack faith in him, question 
his motives or knowledge, or even object to his manner, 
they will not be moved by his most logical conclusions 
and will fail to give him a just hearing. It is all a maUer 
of their confidence in him. Whether the speaker finds it 
already in the warm, expectant look of his hearers, or 
must win to it against opposition or coldness, he must 
gain that one great vantage point before his suggestions 
take on power in the hearts of his listeners. Confidence 
is the mother of Conviction. 

Note in the opening of Henry W. Grady's after-dinner 
speech how he attempted to secure the confidence of his 
audience. He created a receptive atmosphere by a 
humorous story; expressed his desire to speak with 
earnestness and sincerity; acknowledged "the vast in- 
terests involved;" deprecated his "untried arm," and 
professed his humility. Would not such an introduc- 
tion give you confidence in the speaker, unless you were 
strongly opposed to him? And even then, would it not 
partly disarm your antagonism? 

Mr, President: — Bidden by your invitation to a discussion of 
the race problem — ^forbidden by occasion to make a political 
speech — ^I appreciate, in trying to reconcile orders with propriety, 
the perplexity of the little maid, who, bidden to learn to swim. 


was yet adjured, "Now, go, my darling; hang your clothes on 
a hickory limb, and don't go near the water." 

The stoutest apostle of the Church, they say, is the missionary, 
and the missionary, wherever he unfurls his flag, will never find 
himself in deeper need of unction and address than I, bidden 
tonight to plant the standard of a Southern Democrat in Boston's 
banquet hall, and to discuss the problem of the races in the home 
of Phillips and of Sumner. But, Mr. President, if a purpose to 
speak in perfect frankness and sincerity; if earnest understand- 
ing of the vast interests involved; if a consecrating sense of what 
disaster may follow further misunderstanding and estrangement; 
if these may be coimted to steady undisciplined speech and to 
strengthen an untried arm — ^then, sir, I shall find the courage 
to proceed. 

Note also Mr. Bryan's attempt to secure the confidence 
of his audience in the following introduction to his ''Cross 
of Gold" speech delivered before the National Demo- 
cratic Convention in Chicago, 1896. He asserts his own 
inability to oppose the "distinguished gentleman;" he 
maintains the holiness of his cause; and he declares that 
he will speak in the interest of humanity — well knowing 
that humanity is likely to have confidence in the champion 
of their rights. This introduction completely dominated 
the audience, and the speech made Mr. Bryan famous. 

Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the Convention: I would 
be presumptuous indeed to present myself against the distin- 
guished gentlemen to whom you have listened if this were a mere 
measuring of abilities; but this is not a contest between persons. 
The humblest citizen in all the land, when clad in the armor of a 
righteous cause, is stronger than all the hosts of error. I come to 
speak to you in defense of a cause as holy as the cause of liberty — 
the cause of humanity. 

Some speakers are able to beget confidence by their very 
manner, while others can not. 


To secure confidencey be canfideni. How can you expect 
others to accept a message in which you lack, or seem to 
lack, faith yourself? Confidence is as contagious as disease. 
Napoleon rebuked an officer for using the word "impossi- 
ble" in his presence. The speaker who will entertain no 
idea of defeat begets in his hearers the idea of his victory- 
Lady Macbeth was so confident of success that Macbeth 
changed his mind about undertaking the assassination. 
Columbus was so certain in his mission that Queen 
Isabella pawned her jewels to finance his expedition. 
Assert your message with implicit assurance, and your own 
belief will act as so much gunpowder to drive it home. 

Advertisers have long utilized this principle. "The 
machine you will eventually buy," "Ask the man who 
owns one," "Has the strength of Gibraltar," are publicity 
slogans so full of confidence that they give birth to con- 
fidence in the mind of the reader. 

It should — ^but may not! — go without saying that con- 
fidence must have a solid ground of merit or there will be 
a ridiculous crash. It is all very well for the "spell- 
binder" to claim all the precincts — the official coimt is 
just ahead. The reaction against over-confidence and 
over-suggestion ought to warn those whose chief asset is 
mere bluff. 

A short time ago a speaker arose in a public-speaking 
club and asserted that grass would spring from wood- 
ashes sprinkled over the soil, without the aid of seed. 
This idea was greeted with a laugh, but the speaker was 
so sure of his position that he reiterated the statement 
forcefully several times and dted his own personal experi- 


ence as proof. One of the most intelligent men in the 
audience, who at first had derided the idea, at length came 
to believe in it. When asked the reason for his sudden 
change of attitude, he replied: ''Because the speaker is 
so confident." In fact, he was so confident that it took a 
letter from the U. S. Department of Agriculture to dis- 
lodge his error. 

If by a speaker's confidence, intelligent men can be 
made to believe such preposterous theories as this where 
will the power of self-reliance cease when plausible proposi- 
tions are under consideration, advanced with all the power 
of convincing speech? 

Note the utter assurance in these selections: 

I know not what course others may take, but as for me give 
me liberty or give me death.-^PATWCK Henry. 

I ne'er will ask ye quarter, and I ne'er will be your slave; 
But I'll swim the sea of slaughter, till I sink beneath its wave. 

— Patten. 

Come one, come all. This rock shall fly 
Prom its firm base as soon as I. 

— Sir Walter Scott. 


Out of the night that covers me, 

Black as the pit from pole to pole, 
I thank whatever Gods may be 

For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 

I have not winced nor cried aloud; 
Under the bludgeonings of chance 

My head is bloody, but unbowed. 



Beyond this place of wrath and tears 

Looms but the Horror of the shade, 
And yet the menace of the years 

Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 

How charged with punishments the scroll, 

I am the master of my fate; 
I am the captain of my soul. 

— ^WiLLiAM Ernest Henley. 

Authority is a factor in suggestion. We generally accept 
as truth, and without criticism, the words of an authority. 
When he speaks, contradictory ideas rarely arise in the 
mind to inhibit the action he suggests. A judge of the 
Supreme Court has the power of his words multiplied by 
the virtue of his position. The ideas of the U. S. Commis- 
sioner of Immigration on his subject are much more 
effective and powerful than those of a soap manufacturer, 
though the latter may be an able economist. 

This principle also has been used in advertising. We 
are told that the physicians to two Kings have rec- 
onmiended Sanatogen. We are informed that the largest 
bank in America, Tiffany and Co., and The State, War, 
and Navy Departments, all use the Encyclopedia Bri- 
tannica. The shrewd promoter gives stock in his company 
to influential bankers or business men in the community 
in order that he may use their examples as a selling 

If you wish to influence your audience through sugges- 
tion, if you would have your statements accepted without 
criticism or argument, you should appear in the light of 
an authority — and be one. Ignorance and credulity will 


remain unchanged unless the suggestion of authority be 
followed promptly by facts. Don't claim authority un- 
less you carry your license in your pocket. Let reason 
support the position that suggestion has assumed. 

Advertising will help to establish your reputation — 
it is "up to you" to maintain it. One speaker foimd that 
his reputation as a magazine writer was a splendid asset 
as a speaker. Mr. Bryan's publicity, gained by three 
nominations for the presidency and his position as Secre- 
tary of State, helps him to conmiand large sums as a 
speaker. But — ^back of it all, he 15 a great speaker. News- 
paper announcements, all kinds of advertising, formality, 
impressive introductions, all have a capital effect on the 
attitude of the audience. But how ridiculous are all these 
if a toy pistol is advertised as a sixteen-inch gun! 

Note how authority is used in the following to support 
the strength of the speaker's appeal: 

Professor Alfred Russell Wallace has just celebrated his 90th 
birthday. Sharing with Charles Darwin the honor of discovering 
evolution, Professor Wallace has lately received many and signal 
honors from scientific societies. At the dinner given him in 
London his address was largely made up of reminiscences. He 
reviewed the progress of civilization during the last century and 
made a series of brilliant and startling contrasts between the 
England of 1813 and the world of 1913. He affirmed that our 
progress is only seeming and not real. Professor Wallace insists 
that the painters, the sculptors, the architects of Athens and 
Rome were so superior to the modem men that the very fragments 
of their marbles and temples are the despair of the present day 
artists. He tells us that man has improved his telescope and 
spectacles, but that he is losing his eyesight; that man is improv- 
ing his looms, but stiffening his fingers; improving his automobile 
and his locomotive, but losing his legs; improving his foods, but 


losing his digestion. He adds that the modem white slave traffic, 
orphan asylums, and tenement house life in factory towns, make 
a black page in the history of the twentieth century. 

Professor Wallace's views are reinforced by the report of the 
commission of Parliament on the causes of the deterioration of 
the factory-class people. In our own country Professor Jordan 
warns us against war, intemperance, overworking, underfeeding 
of poor children, and disturbs our contentment with his " Harvest 
of Blood." Professor Jenks is more pessimistic. He thinks 
that the pace, the climate, and the stress of city life, have broken 
down the Puritan stock, that in another century our old families 
will be extinct, and that the flood of immigration means a Niagara 
of muddy waters fouling the pure springs of American life. In 
his address in New Haven Professor Kellogg calls the roll of the 
signs of race degeneracy and tells us that this deterioration even 
indicates a trend toward race extinction. 

— Newell Dwicar Hnxis. 

Prom every side come warnings to the American people. Our 
medical journals are filled with danger signals; new books and 
magazines, fresh^from'^the press, tell us plainly that our people 
are fronting a social crisis. Mr. Jefferson, who was once regarded 
as good Democraticjauthority, seems to have differed in opinion 
from the gentleman^who^has addressed us on the part of the 
minority. Those^who are opposed to this proposition tell us that 
the issue of paper money is a function of the bank, and that the 
government ought to go out of the banking business. I stand 
with Jefferson rather than with them, and tell them, as he did, 
that the issue^^of^money is a function of government, and that 
the banks ought^to go out of the governing business. 

— William Jennings Brtan. 

Authority is the great weapon against doubt, but even 
its force can rarely prevail against prejudice and per- 
sistent wrong-headedness. If any speaker has been able 
to forge a sword that is warranted to piece such armor, let 
him bless humanity by sharing his secret with his plat- 


form brethren everywhere, for thus far he is alone in his 

There is a middle-ground between the suggestion of 
authority and the confession of weakness that offers a 
wide range for tact in the speaker. No one can advise 
you when to throw your "hat in the ring" and say de- 
fiantly at the outstart, "Gentlemen, I am here to fight!" 
Theodore Roosevelt can do that — Beecher would have 
been mobbed if he had begun in that style at Liverpool. 
It is for your own tact to decide whether you will use the 
disarming grace of Henry W. Grady's introduction just 
quoted (even the time-worn joke was ingenuous and 
seemed to say, "Gentlemen, I come to you with no care- 
fully-palmed coins"), or whether the solemn gravity of 
Mr. Bryan before the Convention will prove to be more 
effective. Only be sure that your opening attitude is well 
thought out, and if it change as you warm up to yoiur 
subject, let not the change lay you open to a revulsion of 
feeling in your audience. 

Example is a powerful means of suggestion. As we saw 
while thinking of environment in its effects on an audience, 
we do, without the usual amount of hesitation and criti- 
cism, what others are doing. Paris wears certain hats and 
gowns; the rest of the world imitates. The child mimics 
the actions, accents and intonations of the parent. Were 
a child never to hear anyone speak, he would never 
acquire the power of speech, imless imder most arduous 
training, and even then only imperfectly. One of the 
biggest department stores in the United States spends 
fortunes on one advertising slogan: "Everybody is going 


to the big store." That makes everybody want to go. 

You can reinforce the power of your message by showing 
that it has been widely accepted. Political organizations 
subsidize applause to create the impression that their 
speakers' ideas are warmly received and approved by the 
audience. The advocates of the commission-fonn of 
government of cities, the champions of votes for wonaen, 
reserve as their strongest arguments the fact that a num- 
ber of cities and states have already successfully accepted 
their plans. Advertisements use the testimonial for its 
poorer of suggestion. 

Observe how this principle has been applied in the fol- 
lowing selections, and utilize it on every occasion possible 
in your attempts to influence through suggestion: 

The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from 
the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. 
Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand ye here idle? 

— Patrick Henxy. 

With a zeal approaching the zeal which inspired the Crusaders 
who followed Peter the Hermit, our silver Democrats went forth 
from victory unto victory until they are now assembled, not to 
discuss, not to debate, but to enter up the judgment already 
rendered by the plain people of this country. In this contest 
brother has been arrayed against brother, father against son. 
The warmest ties of love, acquaintance, and association have been 
disregarded; old leaders have been cast aside when they refused 
to give expression to the sentiments of those whom they wotdd 
lead, and new leaders have sprung up to give direction to this 
cause of truth. Thus has the contest been waged, and we have 
assembled here under as binding and solemn instructions as were 
ever imposed upon representatives of the people. 

— Wn^LiAM Jennings Bryan. 


Figurative and indirect language has suggestive farce, 
because it does not make statements that can be directly 
disputed. It arouses no contradictory ideas in the minds 
of the audience, thereby fulfilling one of the basic req- 
uisites of suggestion. By implying a conclusion in indi- 
rect or figurative language it is often asserted most 

Note that in the following Mr. Bryan did not say that 
Mr. McKinley would be defeated. He implied it in a 
much more effective manner: 

Mr. McKinley was nominated at St. Louis upon a platform 
which declared for the maintenance of the gold standard until 
it can be changed into bimetaUism by international agreement. 
Mr. McKinley was the most popular man among the Republicans, 
and three months ago everybody in the Republican party 
prophesied his election. How is it today? Why, the man who 
was once pleased to think that he looked like Napoleon — ^that 
man shudders today when he remembers that he was nominated 
on the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. Not only that, but 
as he listens he can hear with ever-increasing distinctness the 
sound of the waves as they beat upon the lonely shores of St. 

Had Thomas Carlyle said: ''A false man cannot found 
a religion/' his words would have been neither so sugges- 
tive nor so powerful, nor so long remembered as his impli- 
cation in these striking words: 

A false man found a religion? Why, a false man cannot build 
a brick house! If he does not know and follow truly the proper- 
ties of mortar, burnt clay, and what else he works in, it is no 
house that he makes, but a rubbish heap. It will not stand for 
twelve centuries, to lodge a htmdred and eighty millions; it will 


fall straightway. A man must confonn himself to Nature's 
laws, be verily in communion with Nature and the truth of things* 
or Nature will answer him, No, not at all! 

Observe how the picture that Webster draws here is 
much more emphatic and forceful than any mere asser- 
tion could be: 

Sir, I know not how others may feel, but as for myself when I 
see my alma maier surrounded, like Caesar in the senate house, 
by those who are reiterating stab after stab, I would not for this 
right hand have her turn to me and say, "And thou, too, my 
son!" — Webster. 

A speech should be built on soimd logical foundations, 
and no man should dare to speak in behalf of a fallacy. 
Arguing a subject, however, will necessarily arouse con- 
tradictory ideas in the mind of your audience. When 
inmiediate action or persuasion is desired, suggestion is 
more efficacious than argimient — ^when both are judi- 
ciously mixed, the effect is irresistible. 


1. Make an outline, or brief, of the contents of this 

2. Revise the introduction to any of your written 
addresses, with the teachings of this chapter in mind. 

3. Give two original examples of the power of sugges- 
tion as you have observed it in each of these fields: (a) 
advertising; (b) politics; (c) public sentiment. 

4. Give original examples of suggestive speech, illus- 
trating two of the principles set forth in this chapter. 


5. What reasons can you give that disprove the gen- 
eral contention of this chapter? 

6. What reasons not abready given seem to you to 
support it? 

7. What effect do his own suggestions have on the 
speaker himself ? 

8. Can suggestion arise from the audience? If so, 
show how. 

9. Select two instances of suggestion in the speeches 
found in the Appendix. 

10. Change any two passages in the same, or other, 
q)eeches so as to use suggestion more effectively. 

11. Deliver those passages in the revised form. 

12. Choosing your own subject, prepare and deliver 
a short speech largely in the suggestive style. 



Common sense is the common sense of mankind. It is the 
product of common observation and experience. It is modest, 
plain, and unsophisticated. It sees with everybody's eyes, and 
hears with everybody's ears. It has no capricious distinctions, 
no perplexities, and no mysteries. It never equivocates, and 
never trifles. Its language is always intelligible. It is known by 
clearness of speech and singleness of purpose. 

— Gborgb Jacob Holyoakb, PMic Speaking and DdfoU. 

The very name of logic is awesome to most young speak- 
ers, but so soon as they come to realize that its processes, 
even when most intricate, are merely technical statements 
of the truths enforced by common sense, it will lose its 
terrors. In fact, logid is a fascinating subject, well worth 
the public speaker's study, for it explains the principles 
that govern the use of argimient and proof. 

Argimientation is the process of producing conviction 
by means of reasoning. Other ways of producing convic- 
tion there are, notably suggestion, as we have just shown, 
but no means is so high, so worthy of respect, as the 
adducing of sound reasons in support of a contention. 

Since more than one side of a subject must be considered 
before we can claim to have deliberated upon it fairly, 
we ought to think of argumentation imder two aspects: 

1 MoCoflh*! Lcgie k a helpful Tt>lum«, mmI not too teohnieftl for the befiaaer. 
A brief digest of logioal prinoiples m applied to publio ipeakint ia ooatained in 
How to AUraei and Hold an AtidiencOt by J. Berg BeenweiB. 


building up an argument, and tearing down an aigument; 
that is, you must not only examine into the stability of 
your structure of argument so that it may both support 
the proposition you intend to probe and yet be so sound 
that it cannot be overthrown by opponents, but you must 
also be so keen to detect defects in argument that you 
will be able to demolish the weaker arguments of those 
who argue against you. 

We can consider argimientation only generally, leaving 
minute and technical discussions to such excellent works 
as George P. Baker's ''The Principles of Argumentation/' 
and George Jacob Holyoake's ''Public Speaking and 
Debate." Any good college rhetoric also will give help 
on the subject, especially the works of John Franklin 
Genung and Adams Sherman Hill. The student is urged 
to familiarize himself with at least one of these texts. 

The foUowing series of questions will, it is hoped, serve 
a triple purpose: that of suggesting the forms of proof 
together with the ways in which they may be used; 
that of helping the speaker to test the strength of his 
arguments; and that of enabling the speaker to attack 
his opponent's arguments with both keenness and justice. 


I. The Quesxign Under Discussion 
I. Is U clearly staied? 

(a) Do the terms of statement mean the same to 
each disputant? (For example, the meaning 
of the term "gentleman" may not be mutu- 
ally agreed upon.) 


(b) Is confusion likdy to arise as to its puipoae? 

2. Is U fairly stated? 

(a) Does it indude enough? 

(b) Does it indude too mudi? 

(c) Is it stated so as to contain a trap? 

3. IsUa debatable question? 

4. What is the pivotal point in the whole qttestian? 

5. What are the subordinate points? 
n. The Evidence 

1. The witnesses as to facts 

(a) Is each witness impartial? What b his rela- 
tion to the subject at issue? 
(i) Is he mentally competent? 

(c) Is he morally credible? 

(d) Is he in a position to know the facts? Is he 
an eye-witness? 

(e) Is he a willing witness? 

(/) Is his testimony contradicted? 
{g) Is his testimony corroborated? 
(h) Is his testimony contrary to well-known 

facts or general prindples? 
(i) Is it probable? 

2. The authorities cited as evidence 

(a) Is the authority well-recognized as such? 

(b) What constitutes him an authority? 

(c) Is his interest in the case an impartial 

(d) Does he state his opinion positivdy and 

(e) Are the non-personal authorities dted 


(books, etc.) reliable and unprejudiced? 

3. The fads adduced as evidence 

(a) Are they sufficient in number to constitute 

ib) Are they weighty enough in character? 

(c) Are they in harmony with reason? 

(d) Are they mutually harmonious or contra- 

(e) Are they admitted, doubted, or disputed? 

4. The principles adduced as evidence 

(a) Are they axiomatic? 

(b) Are they truths of general experience? 

(c) Are they truths of special experience? 

(d) Are they truths arrived at by experiment? 

Were such experiments special or 

Were the experiments authoritative 
and conclusive? 
m. The Reasoning 
I. InducHons 

(a) Are the facts numerous enough to warrant 
accepting the generalization as being con- 

(b) Do the facts agree only when considered in 
the light of this explanation as a conclusion? 

(c) Have you overlooked any contradictory 

(d) Are the contradictory facts sufficiently ex- 
plained when this inference is accepted as 


(e) Are all contrary positions shown to be rela- 
tively untenable? 

(f) Have you accepted mere opinions as facts? 

2. Deductions 

(a) Is the law or general principle a wdl- 

established one? 
(jb) Does the law or principle clearly include the 

fact you wish to deduce from it, or have you 

strained the inference? 

(c) Does the importance of the law or principle 
warrant so important an inference? 

(d) Can the deduction be shown to prove too 

3. Parallel cases 

(a) Are the cases parallel at enough points to 
warrant an inference of similar cause or 

(b) Are the cases parallel at the vital point at 

(c) Has the parallelism been strained? 

(d) Are there no other parallels that would point 
to a stronger contrary conclusion? 

4. Inferences 

(a) Are the antecedent conditions such as would 
make the allegation probable? (Character 
and opportunities of the accused, for ex- 

(b) Are the signs that point to the inference 
either clear or numerous enough to warrant 
its acceptance as fact? 


(c) Are the signs cumulative, and agreeable one 
with the other? 

(d) Could the signs be made to point to a con- 
trary conclusion? 

5. Syllogisms 

(a) Have any steps been omitted in the syllo- 
gisms? (Such as in a syllogism in 
(erUkymeme,) If so, test any such by filling 
out the syllogisms. 

(b) Have you been guilty of stating a conclusion 
that really does not follow? (A non sequUur.) 

(c) Can your syllogism be reduced to an ab- 
surdity? (Reductio ad absurdum,) 


1. Show why an unsupported assertion is not an argu- 

2. Illustrate how an irrelevant fact may be made to 
seem to support an argiunent. 

3. What inferences may justly be made from the 

During the Boer War it was found that the average English- 
man did not measure up to the standards of recruiting and the 
average soldier in the field manifested a low plane of vitality and 
endtirance. Parliament, alarmed by the disastrous consequences, 
instituted an investigation. The commission appointed brought 
in a finding that alcoholic poisoning was the great cause of the 
national degeneracy. The investigations of the commission have 
been supplemented by investigations of scientific bodies and 
individual scientists, all arriving at the same conclusion. As a 
consequence, the British Government has placarded the streets 


of a hundred cities with billboards setting forth the destructive 
and degenerating nature of alcohol and appealing to the people 
in the name of the nation to desist from drinking alcoholic 
beverages. Under efforts directed by the Government the British 
Army is fast becoming an army of total abstainers. 

The Governments of continental Europe followed the lead of 
the British Government. The French Government has placarded 
Prance with appeals to the people, attributing the decline of 
the birth rate and increase in the death rate to the widespread 
use of alcoholic beverages. The experience of the German 
Government has been the same. The German Emperor has 
clearly stated that leadership in war and in peace will be held by 
the nation that roots out alcohol. He has undertaken to eliminate 
even the drinking of beer, so far as possible, from the German 
Army and Navy. — ^Richmond Pearson Hobson, Before the U, S, 

4. Since the burden of proof lies on him who attacks a 
position, or argues for a change in affairs, how would his 
opponent be likely to conduct his own part of a debate? 

5. Define (a) syllogism; (b) rebuttal; (c) ''b^ging 
the question;" (d) premise; (e) rejoinder; (f) sur- 
rejoinder; (g) dilenmia; (h) induction; (1) deduction; 
(/) a priori; (k) a posteriori; (I) inference. 

6. Criticise this reasoning: 

Men ought not to smoke tobacco, because to do so is contrary 
to best medical opinion. My physician has expressly condemned 
the practise, and is a medical authority in this country. 

7. Criticise this reasoning: 

Men ought not to swear profanely, because it is wrong. It 
is wrong for the reason that it is contrary to the Moral Law, 
and it is contrary to the Moral Law because it is contrary to the 
Scriptures. It is contrary to the Scriptures because it is contrary 



to the will of God, and we know it is contrary to God's will 
because it is wrong. 

8. Criticise this syllogism: 

Major Premise: All men who have no cares are happy. 
Minor Premise: Slovenly men are careless. 
Conclusion: Therefore, slovenly men are happy. 

9. Criticise the following major, or foimdation, 


All is not gold that glj^ters. 

All cold may be expelled by fire. 

10. Criticise the following fallacy (non sequiksr): 

Major Premise: All strong men admire strength. 

Minor Premise: This man is not strong. 

Conclusion: Therefore this man does not admire strength. 

II. Criticise these statements: 

Sleep is beneficial on account of its soporific qualities. 

Piske's histories are authentic because they contain accurate 
accounts of American history, and we know that they are true 
accounts for otherwise they would not be contained in these ' 
authentic works. 

1 2. What do you understand from the terms ''reasoning 
from effect to cause" and "from cause to eflfect?" Give 

13. What principle did Richmond Pearson Hobson 
employ in the following? 

What is the police power of the States? The police power of 
the Federal Government or the State — any sovereign State — ^has 


been defined. Take the definition given by Blackstone, which is: 

The due regulation and domestic order of the King- 
dom, whereby the inhabitants of a State, like members 
of a well-govemed family, are bound to conform their 
general behavior to the rules of propriety, of neighbor- 
hood and good manners, and to be decent, industrious, 
and inoffensive in their respective stations. 

Would this amendment interfere with any State carrying on 
the promotion of its domestic order? 

Or you can take the definition in another form, in which it is 
given by Mr. Tiedeman, when he says: 

The object of government is to impose that degree of 
restraint upon human actions which is necessary to a 
uniform, reasonable enjoyment of private rights. The 
power of the government to impose this restraint is 
called the police power. 

Judge Cooley says of the liquor traffic: 


The business of manufacturing and selling liquor is one 
that affects the public interests in many ways and leads 
to many disorders. It has a tendency to increase 
pauperism and crime. It renders a large force of peace 
officers essential, and it adds to the expense of the 
courts and of nearly all branches of civil administration. 

Justice Bradley, of the United States Supreme Court, says: 

Licenses may be properly required in the pursuit of 
many professions and avocations, which require peculiar 
skill and training or supervision for the public welfare. 
The profession or avocation is open to all alike who will 
prepare themselves with the requisite qualifications or 
give the requisite security for preserving public order. 
This is in harmony with the general proposition that the 
ordinary pursuits of life, forming the greater per cent of 
the industrial pursuits, are and ought to be free and 
open to all, subject only to such general r^ulations, 
applying equally to all, as the general good may demand. 

All such regulations are entirely competent for the 


l^slature to make and are in no sense an abridgment 
of the equal rights of citizens. But a license to do that 
which is odious and against common right is necessarily 
an outrage upon the equal rights of citizens. 

14. What method did Jesus employ in the following: 

Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost his 
savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for 
nothing but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. 

Behold the fowls of the air; for they sow not, neither do they 
reap nor gather into bams; yet your heavenly Father feedeth 
them. Are ye not much better than they? 

And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies 
of the field; how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; 
And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was 
not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the 
grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the 
oven, shall he not much more clothe yo^, O ye of little faith? 

Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will 
he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a 
serpent? If ye then, being evU, know how to give good gifts 
unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is 
in heaven give good things to them that ask him? 

15. Make five original syllogisms^ on the following 

Major Prbmisb: He who administers arsenic gives poison. 

1 For those who would make a further atudy of the 0ylloKum the following 
mlee are giyen: 1. In a syllogiam there should be only three terms. 2. Of 
then three only one can be the middle term. 3. One premise must be affirma- 
tire. 4. The oonclusion must be negative if either premise is negative. 6. To 
prove a negative, one of the premises must be negative. 

Summary of Btffulating PrincijiUt: 1. Terms which agree with the same 
thing agree with each other; and when only one of two tenns agrees with a 
third term, the two terms disagree with each other. 2. "Whatever is affirmed 
of afolass may be affirmed of all the members of that dass/' and "Whatever 
iCdenled of a olass may be denied of all the members of that olass/' 


Minor Premise: The prisoner administered arsenic to the 

Conclusion: Therefore the prisoner is a poisoner. 

Major Premise: AU dogs are quadrupeds. 
Minor Premise: This animal is a biped. 
Conclusion: Therefore this animal is not a dog. 

i6. Prepare either the positive or the negative side of 
the following question for debate: The recall of judges 
should be adopted as a noHanal principle, 

17. Is this question debatable? Benedict Arnold was 
a gentleman. Give reasons for your answer. 

18. Criticise any street or dinner-table argument you 
have heard recently. 

19. Test the reasoning of any of the speeches given in 
this volume. 

20. Make a short speech arguing in favor of instruc- 
tion in public speaking in the public evening schools. 

21. (a) Clip a newspaper editorial in which the reason- 
ing is weak, (b) Criticise it. (c) Correct it. 

22. Make a list of three subjects for debate, selected 
from the monthly magazines. 

23. Do the same from the newspapers. 

24. Choosing your own question and side, prepare a 
brief suitable for a ten-minute debating argument. The 
following modeb of briefs may help you: 


Resolved: That armed intervention is not jusUfiable on 
the part of any nation to collect^ in behalf of private indi- 


viduals, financial claims against any American nation} 

BsiEF OF Affhucative Aegument 

First speaker — Chafee 

Armed intervention for collection of private claims from 

any American nation is not justifiable, for 

1. Itis wrong in principle , because 

(a) It violates the fundamental principles of 
international law for a very slight cause 

(A) It is contrary to the proper function of the 
State, and 

(c) It is contrary to justice, since claims are 

Second speaker — ^Hurley 

2. It is disastfom in its results ^\iecaAJi&^ 

{a) It incurs danger of grave international com- 

{b) It tends to increase the burden of debt in the 
South American republics 

(c) It encourages a waste of the world's capital, 

(J) It disturbs peace and stability in South 

Third speaker — Bruce 

3. It is unnecessary to collect in this way, because 

(a) Peaceful methods have succeeded 
{h) If these should fail, claims should be settled 
by The Hague Tribunal 

> All the apeakers were from Brown University. The affinnati\re briefs were 
used in debate with the Dartmouth GoUege team, and the negative briefs were 
vaed in debate with the Williams College team. From Th€ SpMhett by per- 


(c) The fault has always been with European 
States when force has been used, and 

(d) In any case, force should not be used, 
for it counteracts the movement towards 

Brief of Negative Argument 

First speaker — Branch 

Armed intervention for the collection of private financial 
claims against some American States is justifiable, for 

1. When other means of collection have failed, armed 

intervention against any nation is essentiatty 
proper, because 

(a) Justice should alwa3rs be secured 

(b) Non-enforcement of payment puts a pre- 
mium on dishonesty 

(c) Intervention for this purpose is sanctioned 
by the best international authority 

(d) Danger of undue collection is slight and can 
be avoided entirely by submission of daims 
to The Hague Tribunal before intervening 

Second speaker — ^Stone 

2. Armed intervention is necessary to secure justice in 

tropical America, for 

(a) The governments of this section constantly 
repudiate just debts 

(b) They insist that the final decision about 


daims shall rest with their own corrupt 
(c) They refuse to arbitrate sometimes. 

Third speaker — ^Demiett 

3. Armed intervention is beneficial in its results^ 
(a) It inspires responsibility 
{b) In administering custom houses it removes 

temptation to revolutions 
(c) It gives confidence to desirable capitaL 
Among others, the following books were used in the 
preparation of the argmnents: 

N. "The Monroe Doctrine," by T. B. Edgington. Chap- 
ters 22-28. 
'^ Digest of International Law/' by J. B. Moore. 
Report of Penfield of proceedings before Hague Tribu- 
nal in 1903. 
"Statesman's Year Book" (for statistics). 
A. Minister Drago's appeal to the United States, in For- 
dgn Relations of United States, 1903. 
President Roosevelt's Message, 1905, pp. 33-37* 
And articles in the following magazines (among many 

"Journal of Political Economy," December, 1906. 
"Atlantic Monthly," October, 1906. 
"North American Review," Vol. 183, p. 602. 
All of these contain material valuable for both sides, 
ezcq>t those marked "N" and "A," which are useful only 
for the n^ative and affirmative, respectivdy. 


Note: — Practise in debating is most helpful to the 
public speaker, but if possible each debate should be 
under the supervision of some person whose word will be 
respected, so that the debaters might show r^ard for 
courtesy, accuracy, effective reasoning, and the necessity 
for careful preparation. The Appendix contains a list 
of questions for debate. 

25. Are the following points well considered? 

The Inheritance Tax is Not a Good Social Reform 


A. Does not strike at the root of the evil 

1. For^nes not a menace in themselves 

A fortune of $500,000 may be a greater social 
evil than one of $500,000,000 

2. Danger of wealth depends on Us wrong accumulation 

and use 

3. Inheritance tax will not prevent rebates, monopoly, 

discrimination, bribery, etc. 

4. Laws aimed at unjust accumulation and use of 

wealth furnish the true remedy. 

B. It would be evaded 

1. Low rates are evaded 

2. Rale must be high to result in distribution of greai 


26. Class exercises: Mock Trial for (a) some serious 
political offense; (b) a burlesque offense. 



She hath prosperous art 
When she will play with reason and discourse, 
And well she can persuade. 

— Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, 

Him we call an artist who shall play on an assembly of men 
as a master on the keys of a piano, — ^who seeing the people 
furious, shall soften and compose them, shall draw them, when 
he will, to laughter and to tears. Bring him to his audience, and, 
be they who they may, — coarse or refined, pleased or displeased, 
sulky or savage, with their opinions in the keeping of a confessor 
or with their opinions in their bank safes, — ^he will have them 
pleased and humored as he chooses; and they shall carry and 
execute what he bids them. 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essay on Eloquence. 

More good and more ill have been effected by persua- 
sion than by any other form of speech. It is an aUempi 
to influence by means of appeal to some particular interest 
held important by the hearer. Its motive may be high or 
low fair or unfair, honest or dishonest, calm or passionate, 
and hence its scope is imparalleled in public speaking. 

This "instilment of conviction," to use Matthew 
Arnold's expression, is naturally a complex process in that 
it usually includes argumentation and often employs 
suggestion, as the next chapter will illustrate. In fact, 
there is little public speaking worthy of the name that is 
not in some part persuasive, for men rarely speak solely 


to alter men's opinions — ^the ulterior purpose is almost 
alwa3rs action. 

The nature of persuasion is not solely intellectual, but 
is largely emotional. It uses every principle of public 
speaking, and every ''form of discourse/' to use a rhetori- 
cian's expression, but argmnent supplemented by special 
appeal is its peculiar quality. This we may best see by 

The Methods of Persuasion 

High-minded speakers often seek to move their hearers 
to action by an appeal to their highest motives, such as love 
of liberty. Senator Hoar, in pleading for action on the 
Philippine question, used this method: 

What has been the practical statesmanship which comes from 
your ideals and your sentimentalities? You have wasted neariy 
six hundred millions of treasure. You have sacrificed nearly ten 
thousand American lives — the flower of our youth. You have 
devastated provinces. You have slain uncounted thousands of 
the people you desire to benefit. You have established recon- 
centration camps. Your generals are coming home from their 
harvest bringing sheaves with them, in the shape of other thou- 
sands of sick and wounded and insane to drag out miserable lives, 
wrecked in body and mind. You make the American flag in the 
eyes of a numerous people the emblem of sacrilege in Christian 
churches, and of the burning of human dwellings, and of the 
horror of the water torture. Your practical statesmanship which 
disdains to take George Washington and Abraham Lincoln or 
the soldiers of the Revolution or of the Civil War as models, has 
looked in some cases to Spain for your example. I believe — ^nay, 
I know — that in general our officers and soldiers are humane* 
But in some cases they have carried on your warfare with a mix- 
ture of American ingenuity and Castilian cruelty. 

Your practical statesmanship has succeeded in converting a 


people who three years ago were ready to kiss the hem of the 
garment of the American and to welcome him as a liberator, who 
thronged after your men, when they landed on those islands, 
with benediction and gratitude, into sullen and irreconciliable 
enemies, possessed of a hatred which centuries cannot eradicate. 

Mr. President, this is the eternal law of human nature. You 
may struggle against it, you may try to escape it, you may per- 
suade yourself that your intentions are benevolent, that your 
yoke will be easy and your burden will be light, but it will assert 
itself again. Government without the consent of the governed — 
authority which heaven never gave — can only be supported by 
means which heaven never can sanction. 

The American people have got this one question to answer. 
They may answer it now; they can take ten years, or twenty 
years, or a generation, or a century to think of it. But it will not 
down. They must answer it in the end: Can you lawfully buy 
with money, or get by brute force of arms, the right to hold in 
subjugation an unwilling people, and to impose on them such 
constitution as you, and not they, think best for them? 

Senator Hoar then went on to make another sort of 
appeal — ^the appeal to fact and experience: 

We have answered this question a good many times in the 
past. The fathers answered it in 1776, and founded the Republic 
upon their answer, which has been the comer-stone. John Quincy 
Adams and James Monroe answered it again in the Monroe 
Doctrine, which John Quincy Adams declared was only the doc- 
trine of the consent of the governed. The Republican party 
answered it when it took possession of the force of government 
at the beginning of the most brilliant period in all legislative 
history. Abraham Lincoln answered it when, on that fatal 
journey to Washington in 1861, he annotmced that as the doctrine 
of his political creed, and declared, with prophetic vision, that 
he was ready to be assassinated for it if need be. You answered 
it again yourselves when you said that Cuba, who had no more 
title than the people of the Philippine Islands had to their inde- 
pendence, of right ought to be free and independent. 

— George P. Hoar. 


Appeal to the things that man holds dear is another 
potent form of persuasion. 

Joseph Story, in his great Salem speech (1828) used this 
method most dramatically: 

I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors — by 
the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil — ^by all you are, 
and all you hope to be — resist every object of disunion, resist 
every encroachment upon your liberties, resist every attempt to 
fetter your consciences, or smother your public schools, or 
extinguish your system of public instruction. 

I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in woman, 
the love of your offspring; teach them, as they dimb your knees, 
or lean on your bosoms, the blessings of liberty. Swear them at 
the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be true to their country, 
and never to forget or forsake her. 

I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you are; 
whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be too short, 
which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression. Death never 
comes too soon, if necessary in defence of the liberties of your 

I call upon you, old men, for your cotmsels, and your prayers, 
and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs go down in 
sorrow to the grave, with the recollection that you have lived in 
vain. May not your last sun sink in the west upon a nation of 

No; I read in the destiny of my country far better hopes, far 
brighter visions. We, who are now assembled here, must soon 
be gathered to the congregation of other da3rs. The time of our 
departure is at hand, to make way for our children upon the 
theatre of life. May God speed them and theirs. May he who, 
at the distance of another century, shaU stand here to celebrate 
this day, still look round upon a free, happy, and virtuous people. 
May he have reason to exult as we do. May he, with all the 
enthusiasm of truth as well as of poetry, exclaim, that here is 
still his country. — ^Joseph Story. 

The appeal to prejudice is eflfective — though not often, 


if ever, justifiable; yet so long as special pleading endures 
this sort of persuasion will be resorted to. Rudyard 
Elipling uses this method — as have many others on both 
sides — ^in discussing the great European war. Mingled 
with the appeal to prejudice, Mr. Kipling uses the appeal 
to self-interest; though not the highest, it is a powerful 
motive in all our lives. Notice how at the last the 
pleader sweeps on to the highest ground he can take. 
This is a notable example of progressive appeal, beginning 
with a low motive and ending with a high one in such a 
way as to carry all the force of prejudice yet gain all the 
value of patriotic fervor. 

Through no fault nor wish of ours we are at war with Germany, 
the power which owes its existence to three well-thought-out 
wars; the power which, for the last twenty years, has devoted 
itself to organizing and preparing for this war; the power which 
is now fighting to conquer the civilized world. 

For the last two generations the Germans in their books, 
lectures, speeches and schools have been carefully taught that 
nothing less than this world-conquest was the object of their 
preparations and their sacrifices. They have prepared carefully 
and sacrificed greatly. 

We must have men and men and men, if we, with our allies, 
are to check the onrush of organized barbarism. 

Have no illusions. We are dealing with a strong and mag- 
nificently equipped enemy, whose avowed aim is our complete 
destruction. The violation of Belgium, the attack on France 
and the defense against Russia, are only steps by the way. The 
German's real objective, as she always has told us, is England, 
and England's wealth, trade and worldwide possessions. 

If you assume, for an instant, that the attack will be successful, 
Bngland will not be reduced, as some people say, to the rank of 
a second rate power, but we shall cease to exist as a nation. We 
shall become an outlying province of Germany, to be adminis- 


tered with that severity German safety and interest require. 

We are against such a fate. We enter into a new life in whidi 
all the facts of war that we had put behind or forgotten for the 
last hundred years, have returned to the front and test us as 
they tested our fathers. It will be a long and a hard road, beset 
with difficulties and discouragements, but we tread it together 
and we will tread it together to the end. 

Our petty social divisions and barriers have been swept away 
at the outset of our mighty struggle. All the interests of our life 
of six weeks ago are dead. We have but one interest now, and 
that touches the naked heart of every man in this island and in 
the empire. 

If we are to win the right for ourselves and for freedom to 
exist on earth, every man must offer himself for that service and 
that sacrifice. 

From these examples it will be seen that the particular 
way in which the speakers appealed to their hearers was 
hy coming dose home to their interests^ and by Ihemsdves 
showing emotion — two very important principles which 
you must keep constantly in mind. 

To accomplish the former requires a deep knowledge of 
human motive in general and an understanding of the 
particular audience addressed. What are the motives 
that arouse men to action? Think of them earnestly, set 
them down on the tablets of your mind, study how to 
appeal to them worthily. Then, what motives would be 
likely to appeal to your hearers? What are their ideals and 
interests in life? A mistake in your estimate may cost 
you your case. To appeal to pride in appearance would 
make one set of men merely laugh — ^to try to arouse 
sympathy for the Jews in Palestine would be wasted effort 
among others. Study your audience, feel your way, and 


when you have once raised a spark, fan it into a flame by 
every honest resource you possess. 

The larger your audience the more sure you are to find 
a universal basis of appeal. A small audience of bachelor's 
will not grow excited over the importance of furniture 
insurance; most men can be roused to the defense of the 
freedom of the press. 

Patent medicine advertisement usually begins by talking 
about your pains — they begin on your interests. If they 
fiorst discussed the size and rating of their establishment, 
or the eflScacy of their remedy, you would never read the 
"ad." If they can make you think you have nervous 
troubles you will even plead for a remedy — they will not 
have to try to sell it. 

The patent medicine men are pleading — ^asking you to 
invest your money in their commodity — ^yet they do not 
appear to be doing so. They get over on your side of the 
fence and arouse a desire for their nostrums by appealing 
to your own interests. 

Recently a book-salesman entered an attorney's office 
in New York and inquired : "Do you want to buy a book?" 
Had the lawyer wanted a book he would probably have 
bought one without waiting for a book-salesman to call. 
The solicitor made the same mistake as the representative 
who made his approach with: "I want to sell you a sewing 
machine." They both talked only in terms of their own 

The successful pleader must convert his arguments into 
terms of his hearers' advantage. Mankind are still selfish. 
They are interested in what will serve them. Expunge 


from your address your own personal concern and present 
your appeal in terms of the general good, and to do this 
you need not be insincere, for you had better not plead 
any cause that is not for the hearers' good. Notice how 
Senator Thurston in his plea for intervention in Cuba and 
Mr. Bryan in his "Cross of Gold" speech constituted 
themselves the apostles of humanity. 

Exhortation is a highly impassioned form of appeal, 
frequently used by the pulpit in efforts to arouse men to a 
sense of duty and induce them to decide their personal 
courses, and by counsel in seeking to influence a jury. The 
great preachers, like the great jury-lawyers, have always 
been masters of persuasion. 

Notice the difference among these four exhortations, 
and analyze the motives appealed to: 

Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! Let not 
a traitor live! — Shakespeare, Julius Casar. 

Strike — ^till the last armed foe expires, 
Strike — for your altars and your fires, 
Strike — ^for the green graves of your sires, 

God — and your native land ! 

— Pitz-Greenb Halleck, Marco Boasaris. 

Believe, gentlemen, if it were not for those children, he would 
not come here to-day to seek such remuneration; if it were not 
that, by your verdict, you may prevent those little innocent 
defrauded wretches from becoming wandering beggars, as well 
as orphans on the face of this earth. Oh, I know I need not ask 
this verdict from your mercy; I need not extort it from your 
compassion; I will receive it from your justice. I do conjure 
you, not as fathers, but as husbands: — not as husbands, but as 
citizens: — ^not as citizens, but as men: — ^not as men, but as 


Christians: — by all your obligations, public, private, moral, and 
religious; by the hearth profaned; by the home desolated; by 
the canons of the living God foully spumed; — save, oh! save 
your firesides from the contagion, your country from the crime, 
and perhaps thousands, yet unborn, from the shame, and sin, 
and sorrow of this example! 

— Charles Phillips, Appeal to the jury in behalf of Guthrie. 

So I appeal from the men in silken hose who danced to music 
made by slaves and called it freedom, from the men in bell-crown 
hats who led Hester Prynne to her shame and caUed it religion, 
to that Americanism which reaches forth its arms to smite wrong 
with reason and truth, secure in the power of both. I appeal 
from the patriarchs of New England to the poets of New Eng- 
land; from Endicott to Lowell; from Winthrop to Longfellow; 
from Norton to Holmes; and I appeal in the name and by the 
rights of that common citizenship — of that common origin, back 
of both the Puritan and the Cavalier, to which all of us owe our 
being. Let the dead past, consecrated by the blood of its martyrs, 
not by its savage hatreds, darkened alike by kingcraft and priest- 
craft — let the dead past bury its dead. Let the present and the 
future ring with the song of the singers. Blessed be the lessons 
they teach, the laws they make. Blessed be the eye to see, the 
light to reveal. Blessed be tolerance, sitting ever on the right 
hand of God to guide the way with loving word, as blessed be all 
that brings us nearer the goal of true religion, true republicanism, 
and true patriotism, distrust of watchwords and labels, shams 
and heroes, belief in our country and ourselves. It was not Cotton 
Mather, but John Greenleaf Whittier, who cried: 

Dear God and Father of us all, 
Forgive our faith in cruel lies, 
Forgive the blindness that denies. 

Cast down our idols — overturn 
Our Bloody altars — make us see 
Thyself in Thy humanity ! 

— ^Henry Watterson, Puritan and Caoalier, 


Goethe, on being reproached for not having written war 
songs against the French, replied, "In my poetry I have 
never shammed. How could I have written songs of hate 
without hatred? " Neither is it possible to plead with full 
efiSidency for a cause for which you do not feel deeply. 
Feeling is contagious as belief b contagious. The speaker 
who pleads with real feeling for his own convictions will 
instill his feelings into his listeners. Sincerity, force, 
enthusiasm, and above all, feeling — these are the qualities 
that move multitudes and make appeals irresistible. They 
are of far greater importance than technical principles of 
delivery, grace of gesture, or polished enunciation — ^im- 
portant as all these elements must doubtless be considered. 
Base your appeal on reason, but do not end in the base- 
ment — ^let the building rise, full of deep emotion and noble 


I. (a) What elements of appeal do you find in the fol- 
lowing? (b) Is it too florid? (c) Is this style equally 
powerful today? (d) Are the sentences too long and 
involved for clearness and force? 

Oh, gentlemen, am I this day only the counsel of my client? 
No, no; I am the advocate of htmmnity — of yourselves — ^your 
homes — ^your wives — ^your families — your little children. I am 
glad that this case exhibits such atrocity; unmarked as it is 
by any mitigatory feature, it may stop the frightfid advance of 
this calamity; it will be met now, and marked with vengeance. 
If it be not, farewell to the virtues of your country; farewell to 
all confidence between man and man; farewell to that unsuspi- 
cious and reciprocal tenderness, without which marriage is but 


a consecrated curse. If oaths are to be violated, laws disr^arded, 
friendship betrayed, humanity trampled, national and individual 
honor stained, and if a jury of fathers and of husbands will 
give such miscreancy a passport to their homes, and wives, and 
daughters, — farewell to all that yet remains of Ireland! But I 
will not cast such a doubt upon the character of my country. 
Against the sneer of the foe, and the skepticism of the foreigner, 
I will still point to the domestic virtues, that no perfidy could 
barter, and no bribery can purchase, that with a Roman usage, 
at once embelHsh and consecrate households, giving to the 
society of the hearth all the purity of the altar; that lingering 
alike in the palace and the cottage, are still to be found scattered 
over this land — ^the relic of what she was — ^the source perhaps 
of what she may be — ^the lone, the stately, and magnificent 
memorials, that rearing their majesty amid surrounding ruins, 
serve at once as the landmarks of the departed glory, and the 
models by which the future may be erected. 

Preserve those virtues with a vestal fidelity; mark this day, 
by your verdict, your horror of their profanation; and believe 
me, when the hand which records that verdict shall be dust, and 
the tongue that asks it, traceless in the grave, many a happy 
home will bless its consequences, and many a mother teach her 
Hftle child to hate the impious treason of adultery. 

— Cbablbs Phillips. 

3. Analyze and criticise the forms of appeal used in 
the selections from Hoar, Story, and Kipling. 

3. What is the type of persuasion used by Senator 
Thurston (page 50)? 

4. Cite two examples each, from selections in this 
volume, in which speakers sought to be persuasive by 
securing the hearers' (a) sympathy for themselves; (ft) 
S3mipathy with their subjects; {c) self-pity. 

5. Make a short address using persuasion. 


6. What other methods of persuasion than those here 
mentioned can you name? 

7. Is it easier to persuade men to change their course 
of conduct than to persuade them to continue in a given 
course? Give examples to support your belief. 

8. In how far are we justified in making an appeal to 
self-interest in order to lead men to adopt a given course? 

9. Does the merit of the course have any bearing on 
the merit of the methods used? 

10. Illustrate an unworthy method of using persua- 

ti. Deliver a short speech on the value of skill in per- 

12. Does effective persuasion always produce con- 

13. Does conviction always result in action? 

14. Is it fair for coimsel to appeal to the emotions of 
a jury in a murder trial? 

15. Ought the judge use persuasion in making his 

16. Say how self-consciousness may hinder the power 
of persuasion in a speaker. 

17. Is emotion without words ever persuasive? If so, 

18. Might gestures without words be persuasive? If 
so, illustrate. 

19. Has posture in a speaker anything to do with per- 
suasion? Discuss. 

20. Has voice? Discuss. 

21. Has manner? Discuss. 


22. What effect does personal magnetism have m pro- 
ducing conviction? 

23. Discuss the relation of persuasion to (a) descrip- 
tion; (b) narration; (c) exposition; (d) pure reason. 

24. What is the effect of over-persuasion? 

25. Make a short speech on the effect of the constant 
use of persuasion on the sincerity of the speaker himself. 

26. Show by example how a general statement is not 
as persuasive as a concrete example illustrating the point 
being discussed. 

27. Show by example how brevity is of value in per- 

28. Discuss the importance of avoiding an antagonistic 
attitude in persuasion. 

29. What is the most persuasive passage you have 
found in the selections of this volume. On what do you 
base your decision? 

30. Cite a persuasive passage from some other source. 
Read or recite it aloud. 

31. Make a list of the emotional bases of appeal, 
grading them from low to high, according to your estimate. 

32. Would circumstances make any difference in such 
grading? If so, give examples. 

33. Deliver a short, passionate appeal to a jury, plead- 
ing for justice to a poor widow. 

34. Deliver a short appeal to men to give up some evil 

35. Criticise the structure of the sentence b^;inning 
with the last line of page 296. 



Success in business, in the last analjrsis, turns upon touching 
the imagination of crowds. The reason that preachers in this 
present generation are less successful in getting people to want 
goodness than business men are in getting them to want motor- 
cars, hats, and pianolas, is that business men as a dass are more 
dose and desperate students of human nature, and have boned 
down harder to the art of touching the imaginations of the 
crowds. — Gerald Stanley Lee, Crowds, 

In the early part of July, 1914, a collection of Fraich- 
men in Paris, or Germans in Berlin, was not a crowd in a 
psychological sense. Each individual had his own special 
interests and needs, and there was no powerful common 
idea to unify them. A group then rq)resented only a 
collection of individuals. A month later, any coliection 
of Frenchmen or Germans formed a crowd: Patriotism, 
hate, a conmion fear, a pervasive grief, had unified the 

The psychology of the crowd b far different from the 
psychology of the personal members that compose it The 
crowd is a distinct entity. Individuals restrain and subdue 
many of their impulses at the dictates of reason. The 
crowd never reasons. It only feels. As persons there is a 
sense of responsibility attached to our actions which 
checks many of our incitements, but the sense of responsi- 
bility is lost in the crowd because of its numbers. The 
crowd is exceedingly suggestible and will act upon the 


wildest and most extreme ideas. The crowd-mind is 
primitive and will cheer plans and perform actions which 
its members would utterly repudiate. 

A mob is only a highly-wrought crowd. Ruskin's 
description is fitting: " You can talk a mob into anything; 
its feelings may be — ^usually are — on the whole, generous 
and right, but it has no foimdation for them, no hold of 
them. You may tease or tickle it into anything at your 
pleasure. It thinks by infection, for the most part, catch- 
ing an opinion like a cold, and there is nothing so little 
that it will not roar itself wild about, when the fit is on, 
nothing so great but it will forget in an hour when the fit 

History will show us how the crowd-mind works. The 
medieval mind was not given to reasoning; the medieval 
man attached great weight to the utterance of authority; 
his religion touched chiefly the emotions. These condi- 
tions provided a rich soil for the propagation of the crowd- 
mind when, in the eleventh century, flagellation, a volun- 
tary self-scourging, was preached by the monks. Sub- 
stituting flagellation for reciting penetintial psalms was 
advocated by the reformers. A scale was drawn up, 
making one thousand strokes equivalent to ten psalms, 
or fifteen thousand to the entire psalter. This craze 
spread by leaps — and crowds. Flagellant fraternities 
sprang up. Priests carrying banners led through the 
streets great processions reciting prayers and whipping 
their bloody bodies with leathern thongs fitted with four 
iron points. Pope Clement denounced this practise and 

^ Sesame and LUim. 


several of the leaders of these processions had to be 
burned at the stake before the frenzy could be uprooted. 

All western and central Europe was turned into a crowd 
by the preaching of the crusaders, and millions of the 
followers of the Prince of Peace rushed to the Holy Land 
to kill the heathen. Even the children started on a cru- 
sade against the Saracens. The mob-spirit was so strong 
that home affections and persuasion could not pre- 
vail against it and thousands of mere babes died in 
their attempts to reach and redeem the Sacred 

In the early part of the eighteenth century the South 
Sea Company was formed in England. Britain became a 
speculative crowd. Stock in the South Sea Company rose 
from 1283^ points in January to 550 in May, and scored 
1,000 in July. Five million shares were sold at this 
premium. Speculation ran riot. Hundreds of companies 
were organized. One was formed " for a wheel of perpetual 
motion." Another never troubled to give any reason at 
all for taking the cash of its subscribers — ^it merely an- 
noimced that it was organized ''for a design which will 
hereafter be promulgated." Owners began to sell, the 
mob caught the suggestion, a panic ensued, the South 
Sea Company stock fell 800 points in a few days, and 
more than a billion dollars evaporated in this era of 
frenzied speculation. 

The burning of the witches at Salem, the Klondike 
gold craze, and the forty-eight people who were killed by 
mobs in the United States in 1913, are examples familiar 
to us in America. 


The Crowd Must Have a Leader 

The leader of the crowd or mob is its determining factor. 
He becomes self-hynoptized with the idea that unifies 
its members, his enthusiasm is contagious — and so is 
theirs. The crowd acts as he suggests. The great mass of 
people do not have any very sharply-drawn conclusions 
on any subject outside of their own little spheres, but 
when they become a crowd they are perfectly willing to 
accept ready-made, hand-me-down opinions. They wiU 
follow a leader at all costs — ^in labor troubles they often 
follow a leader in preference to obeying their government, 
in war they will throw self-preservation to the bushes and 
follow a leader in the face of guns that fire fourteen times 
a second. The mob becomes shorn of will-power and 
blindly obedient to its dictator. The Russian Government, 
recognizing the menace of the crowd-mind to its autocracy, 
formerly prohibited public gatherings. History is full of 
similar instances. 

How the Crowd is Created 

Today the crowd is as real a factor in our socialized life 
as are magnates and monopolies. It is too complex a 
problem merely to damn or praise it — ^it must be reckoned 
with, and mastered. The present problem is how to get 
the most and the best out of the crowd-spirit, and the 
public speaker finds this to be peculiarly his own question. 
His influence is multiplied if he can only transmute his 
audience into a crowd. His affirmations must be their 


This can be accomplished by unifying the minds and 
needs of the audience and arousing their emotions. Thdr 
Jeelings, not their reason, must be played upon — U is *^up 
to" him to do this nobly. Argument has its place on the 
platform, but even its potencies must subserve the speak- 
er's plan of attack to win possession of his audience. 

Reread the chapter on "Feeling and Enthusiasm." It 
is impossible to make an audience a crowd without appeal- 
ing to their emotions. Can you imagine the average group 
becoming a crowd while hearing a lecture on Dry Fly 
Fishing, or on Egyptian Art? On the other hand, it would 
not have required world-famous eloquence to have turned 
any audience in Ulster, in 1914, into a crowd by discussing 
the Home Rule Act. The crowd-spirit depends largely 
on the subject used to fuse their individualities into one 
glowing whole. 

Note how Antony played upon the feelings of his hearers 
in the famous fimeral oration given by Shakespeare in 
'^ Julius Caesar." From murmuring imits the men became 
a unit — a mob. 


Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears; 

I come to bury Cassar, not to praise him. 

The evil that men do lives after them; 

The good is oft interred with their bones: 

So let it be with Caesar! The Noble Brutus 

Hath told you Caesar was ambitious. 

If it were so, it was a grievous fault, 

And grievously hath Cassar answered it. 

Here, imder leave of Brutus, and the rest — 

For Brutus is an honorable man, 


So are they all, all honorable men — 

Come I to speak in Cssar's funeral. 

He was my friend, faithful and just to me: 

But Brutus says he was ambitious; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: 

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? 

When that the poor have cried, Csesar hath wept; 

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown. 

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 

And sure, he is an honorable man. 

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 

But here I am to speak what I do know. 

You all did love him once, not without cause; 

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? 

Oh, judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts. 

And men haye lost their reason! — Bear with me; 

My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar, 

And I must pause till it come back to me. [Weeps. 

1 Plebeian. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. 

2 Pie. If thou consider rightly of the matter, 
Csesar has had great wrong. 

3 Pie. Has he, masters? 
I fear there will a worse come in his place. 

4 Pie. Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; 
Therefore, 'tis certain, he was not ambitious. 

1 Pie. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. 

2 Pie. Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with weeping. 

3 Pie. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. 

4 Pie. Now mark him, he begins again to speak. 
Anl. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 

Have stood against the world: now lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 



Oh, masters! if I were dispos'd to stir 4 

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 1 

Who, you all know, are honorable men. J 

I will not do them wrong; I rather choose 1 

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you. 

Than I will wrong such honorable men. i 

But here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar; ^ 

I found it in his closet; 'tis his will: 

Let but the commons hear this testament — • 

Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read — ^ 

And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 

And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; 

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, j 

And, djdng, mention it within their wills. 

Bequeathing it as a rich legacy 

Unto their issue. J 

4 Pie. We'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony. - 

All. The will! the will! we will hear Caesar's will. 

Ant. Have patience, gentle friends: I must not read it; 
It is not meet you know how Caesar lov'd you. t 

You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; ! 

And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, 

It will inflame you, it will make you mad: { 

'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; 
For if you should, oh, what would come of it! 

4 Pie. Read«the will; we'll hear it, Antony! 
You shall read us the will! Caesar's will! ^ 

Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? 
I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it. 

I fear I wrong the honorable men ^ 

Whose daggers have stab'd Caesar; I do fear it. 

4 Pie. They were traitors: Honorable men! 

All. The will! the testament! 

2 Pie. They were villains, murtherers! The will! Read the will! ' 

Ant. You will compel me then to read the will? 
Then, make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 

And let me shew you him that made the will. 4 

Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? 


All. Come down. 

2 Pie. Descend. [He comes daunt from the Rostrum. 

3 Pie. You shall have leave. 

4 Pie. A ring; stand round. 

1 Pie. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. 

2 Pie. Room for Antony! — most noble Antony! 
Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off. 
All. Stand back! room! bear back! 

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now; 
You all do know this mantle: I remember 
The first time ever Csesar put it on; 
'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, 
That day he overcame the Nervii. 
Look, in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through: 
See, what a rent the envious Casca made: 
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stab'd; 
And as he pluck 'd his cursed steel away, 
Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it! — 
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd 
If Brutus so unkindly knock 'd, or no; 
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: 
Judge, O you Gods, how Caesar lov'd him! 
This was the most unkindest cut of all! 
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab. 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms. 
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; 
And in his mantle muffling up his face, • 

Even at the base of Pompey's statue. 
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
Oh what a fall was there, my countrymen! 
Then I and you, and all of us, fell down. 
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. 
Oh! now you weep; and I perceive you feel . 
The dint of pity; these are gracious drops. 
Kind souls! what, weep you, when you but behold 
Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here! 
Here is himself, mar'd, as you see, by traitors. 

1 Pie. Oh, piteous spectacle! 

2 Pie. Oh, noble Caesar! 


3 Pie. Oh, woful day! 

4 Pie, Oh, traitors, villains! 

1 Pie, Oh, most bloody sight! 

2 Pie, We will be reveng'd! 

AU, Revenge; about — seek — bum — ^fire — ^kill — slay! — Let not 

a traitor live! 
Ant, Stay, countrymen. 

1 Pie. Peace there! Hear the noble Antony. 

2 Pie, We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him. 
Ant, Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 

To such a sudden flood of mutiny: 

They that have done this deed are honorable: 

What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, 

That made them do it; they are wise, and honorable. 

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; 

I am no orator, as Brutus is; 

But as you know me all, a plain blunt man, 

That love my friend, and that they know full well 

That gave me public leave to speak of him: 

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 

Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech. 

To stir men's blood. I only speak right on: 

I tell you that which you yourselves do know; 

Show your sweet Csesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths. 

And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, 

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 

Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 

In every wound of Caesar, that should move 

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 

All. We'll mutiny! 

1 Pie. We'll bum the house of Brutus. 

3 Pie. Away, then! Come, seek the conspirators. 
Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. 
All. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony. 
Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what. 

Wherein hath Caesar thus deserv'd your loves? 
Alas! you know not! — I must tell you then. 
You have forgot the will I told you of. 


Pie. Most true; — ^the will! — diet's stay, and hear the will. 

Ant, Here is the will, and under Csesar's seal. 
To every Roman citizen he gives, 
To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. 

2 Pie. Most noble Csesar! — ^we'll revenge his death. 

3 Pie, O royal Caesar! 

Ant. Hear me with patience. 

AU. Peace, ho! 

AfU, Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, 
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards, 
On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, 
And to your heirs forever, common pleasures, 
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. 
Here was a Caesar! When comes such another? 

1 Pie. Never, never! — Come, away, away! 
Well bum his body in the holy place. 

And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. 
Take up the body. 

2 Pie. Go, fetch fire. 

3 Pie. Pluck down benches. 

4 Pie. Pluck down forms, windows, anything. 

[Exeunt Citizens, with the body. 
Ant. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. 
Take thou what course thou wilt! 

To unify single auditors into a crowd, express their 
common needs, aspirations, dangers, and emotions, de- 
liver your message so that the interests of one shall appear 
to be the interests of all. The conviction of one man is 
intensified in proportion as he finds others sharing 
his belief — and feeling. Antony does not stop with telling 
the Roman populace that Caesar fell — ^he makes the 
tragedy universal: 

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down. 
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 

Applause, generally a sign of feeling, helps to unify an 


audience. The nature of the crowd is illustrated by the 
contagion of applause. Recently a throng in a New York 
moving-picture and vaudeville house had been applauding 
several songs, and when an advertisement for tailored 
skirts was thrown on the screen some one started the 
applause, and the crowd, like sheep, blindly imitated — 
until someone saw the joke and laughed; then the crowd 
again followed a leader and laughed at and applauded its 
own stupidity. 

Actors sometimes start applause for their lines by snap- 
ping their fingers. Some one in the first few rows will mis- 
take it for faint applause, and the whole theatre will chime 

An observant auditor will be interested in noticing 
the various devices a monologist will use to get the first 
round of laughter and applause. He works so hard be- 
cause he knows an audience of units is an audience of 
indifferent critics, but once get them to laughing together 
and each single laugher sweeps a number of others with 
him, until the whole theatre is aroar and the entertainer 
has scored. These are meretricious schemes, to be sure, 
and do not savor in the least of inspiration, but crowds 
have not changed in their nature in a thousand years and 
the one law holds for the greatest preacher and the pettiest 
stump-speaker — ^you must fuse your audience or they will 
not warm to your message. The devices of the great 
orator may not be so obvious as those of the vaudeville 
monologist, but the principle is the same: he tries to 
strike some universal note that will have all his hearers 
feeling alike at the same time. 


The evangelist knows this when he has the soloist sing 
some touching song just before the address. Or he will 
have the entire congregation sing, and that is the psy- 
chology of "Now CTer3;body sing!" for he knows that they 
who will not join in the song are as yet outside the crowd. 
Many a time has the popular evangelist stopped in the 
middle of his talk, when he felt that his hearers were units 
instead of a molten mass (and a sensitive speaker can feel 
that condition most depressingly) and suddenly demanded 
that everyone arise and sing, or repeat aloud a familiar 
passage, or read in imison; or perhaps he has subtly left 
the thread of his discourse to tell a story that, from long 
experience, he knew would not fail to bring his hearers to 
a common feeling. 

These things are important resources for the speaker, 
and happy is he who uses them worthily and not as a 
despicable charlatan. The difference between a dema- 
gogue and a leader is not so much a matter of method as of 
principle. Even the most dignified speaker must recog- 
nize the eternal laws of human nature. You are by no 
means urged to become a trickster on the platform — far 
from it! — ^but don't kill your speech with dignity. To be 
idly correct is as silly as to rant. Do neither, but appeal 
to those world-old elements in your audience that have 
been recognized by all great speakers from Demosthenes to 
Sam Small, and see to it that you never debase your 
powers by arousing your hearers unworthily. 

It is as hard to kindle enthusiasm in a scattered audi- 
ence as to build a fire with scattered sticks. An audience 
to be converted into a crowd must be made to appear as 


a crowd. This cannot be done when they aie wiady 
scattered over a large seating space or when many empty 
benches separate the speaker from his hearers. Have 
your audience seated compactly. How many a preacher 
has bemoaned the enormous edifice over which what would 
normally be a large congregation has scattered in chilled 
and chilling solitude Sunday after Sunday! Bish<^ 
Brooks himself could not have inspired a congregation of 
one thousand souls seated in the vastness of St Peter's 
at Rome. In that colossal sanctuary it is only on great 
occasions which bring out the multitudes that the service 
is before the high altar — at other times the smaller side- 
chapels are used. 

Universal ideas surcharged with feeling help to create 
the crowd-atmosphere. Examples: liberty, character, 
righteousness, courage, fraternity, altruism, country, and 
national heroes. George Cohan was making psychology 
practical and profitable when he introduced the flag and 
flag-songs into his musical comedies. Cromwell's r^- 
ments prayed before the battle and went into the fight 
singing h3anns. The French corps, singing the Marseil- 
laise in 1914, charged the Germans as one man. Such 
unifying devices arouse the feelings, make soldiers fanati- 
cal mobs — and, alas, more efficent murderers. 



To think, and to feel, constitute the two grand divisions of 

men of genius — the men of reasoning and the men of imagination. 

— Isaac Disraeli, Literary Character of Men of Genius, 

And as imagination bodies forth 
The forms of things tmknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name. 

— Shakbspbarb, Midsummer-Night's Dream. 

It is common, among those who 'Heal chiefly with life's 
practicalities, to think of imagination as having little value 
in comparison with direct thinking. They smile with 
tolerance when Emerson says that '' Science does not 
know its debt to the imagination," for these are the words 
of a speculative essayist, a philosopher, a poet. But 
when Napoleon — the indomitable welder of empires — de- 
clares that ''The human race is governed by its imagina- 
tion," the authoritative word commands their respect. 

Be it remembered, the facidty of forming mental images 
is as efficient a cog as may be found in the whole mind- 
machine. True, it must fit into that other vital cog, pure 
thought, but when it does so it may be questioned 
which is the more productive of important results for the 
happiness and well-being of man. This should become 
more apparent as we go on. 



Let us not seek for a definition, for a score of varying 
ones may be found, but let us grasp this fact: By imagina- 
tion we mean either the faculty or the process of forming 
mental images. 

The subject-matter of imagination may be really ex- 
istent in nature, or not at all real, or a combination of 
both; it may be ph3rsical or spiritual, or both — the mental 
image is at once the most lawless and the most law-abiding 
child that has ever been bom of the mind. 

First of all, as its name suggests, the process of imagina- 
tion — ^for we are thinking of it now as a process rather 
than as a faculty — ^is memory at work. Therefore we 
must consider it primarily as 

J. Reproductive Imaginaiion 

We see or hear or feel or taste or smell something and 
the sensation passes away. Yet we are conscious of a 
greater or lesser ability to reproduce such feelings at wilL 
Two considerations, in general, will govern the vividness 
of the image thus evoked — the strength of the original 
impression, and the reproductive power of one mind as 
compared with another. Yet every normal person will 
be able to evoke images with some degree of clearness. 

The fact that not all minds possess this imaging faculty 
in anything like equal measure will have an important 
bearing on the public speaker's study of this question. 
No man who does not fed at least some poetic impulses 
is likely to aspire seriously to be a poet, yet many whose 


imaging faculties are so dormant as to seem actually 
dead do aspire to be public speakers. To all such we say 
most earnestly : Awaken your image-making gift, for even 
in the most coldly logical discourse it is sure to prove of 
great service. It is important that you find out at once 
just how full and how trustworthy is your imagination, 
for it is capable of cultivation — ^as well as of abuse. 

Francis Galtoni says: "The French appear to possess 
the visualizing faculty in a high d^ee. The peculiar 
ability they show in pre-arranging ceremonials and f^tes 
of all kinds and their imdoubted genius for tactics and 
strategy show that they are able to foresee effects 
with unusual clearness. Their ingenuity in all technical 
contrivances is an additional testimony in the same di- 
rection, and so is their singular clearness of expression. 
Their phrase figurez-vous, or picture to yourself, seems to 
express their dominant mode of perception. Our equiva- 
lent, of 'image/ is ambiguous." 

But individuals differ in this respect just as markedly 
as, for instance, the Dutch do from the French. And this 
is true not only of those who are classified by their friends 
as being respectively imaginative or vmimaginative, but 
of those whose gifts or habits are not well known. 

Let us take for experiment six of the best-known types 
of imaging and see in practise how they arise in our own 

By all odds the most common type is, (a) the tisual 
image. Children who more readily recall things seen 
than things heard are called by psychologists "eye- 

^Inquiriet into Human FacuUy. 


minded/' and most of us are bent in this direction. Close 
your eyes now and re-call — ^the word thus hyphenated 
is more suggestive — ^the scene around this morning's 
breakfast table. Possibly there was nothing striking in 
the situation and the image is therefore not striking. Then 
image any notable table scene in your experience — ^how 
vividly it stands forth, because at the time you felt the 
impression strongly. Just then you may not have been 
conscious of how strongly the scene was la3ring hold upon 
you, for often we are so intent upon what we see that we 
give no particular thought to the fact that it is impressing 
us. It may surprise you to learn how accurately you are 
able to image a scene when a long time has elapsed be- 
tween the conscious focussing of your attention on the 
image and the time when you saw the original. 

(b) The audiiory image is probably the next most 
vivid of our recalled experiences. Here association is 
potent to suggest similarities. Close out all the world 
beside and Hsten to the peculiar wood-against-wood sound 
of the sharp thunder among rocky mountains — the crash 
of ball against ten-pins may suggest it. Or image (the 
word is imperfect, for it seems to suggest only the eye) 
the sound of tearing ropes when some precious weight 
hangs in danger. Or recall the bay of a hound almost 
upon you in pursuit — choose your own soimd, and see 
how pleasantly or terribly real it becomes when imaged 
in your brain. 

(c) The motor image is a close competitor with the 
auditory for second place. Have you ever awakened in 
the night, every muscle taut and striving, to feel your 


sdf straining against the opposing foot-ball line that held 
like a stone-wall — or as firmly as the headboard of your- 
bed? Or voluntarily recall the movement of the boat 
when you cried inwardly, "It's all up with me!" The 
perilous Imrch of a train, the sudden sinking of an elevator, 
or the unexpected toppling of a rocking-chair may serve 
as further experiments. 

(d) The gustatory image is common enough, as the idea 
of eating lemons will testify. Sometimes the pleasur- 
able recollection of a delightful dinner will cause the mouth 
to water years afterward, or the "image" of particularly 
atrocious medicine will wrinkle the nose long after it 
made one day in boyhood wretched. 

(e) The olfactory image is even more delicate. Some 
there are who are affected to illness by the memory of 
certain odors, while others experience the most delectable 
sensations by the rise of pleasing olfactory images. 

(f) The tactile image, to name no others, is well nigh 
as potent. Do you shudder at the thought of velvet 
rubbed by short-nailed finger tips? Or were you ever 
" burned " by touching an ice-cold stove? Or, happier mem- 
ory, can you still feel the touch of a well-loved absent hand? 

Be it remembered that few of these images are present 
in our minds except in combination — the sight and sound 
of the crashing avalanche are one; so are the flash and 
report of the huntman's gun that came so near "doing 
for us." 

Thus, imaging — especially conscious reproductive im- 
agination — ^will become a valuable part of our mental 
processes in proportion as we direct and control it. 


2. Productive Imaginaiian 

All of the foregoing examples, and doubtless also many 
of the experiments you yourself may originate, are merely 
reproductive. Pleasurable or horrific as these may be, they 
are far less important than the images evoked by the pro- 
ductive imagination — though that does not infer a separate 

Recall, again for experiment, some scene whose be- 
ginning you once saw enacted on a street comer but 
passed by before the denouement was ready to be disclosed. 
Recall it all — that far the image is reproductive. But 
what followed? Let your fantasy roam at pleasure — ^the 
succeeding scenes are productive, for you have more or 
less consciously invented the unreal on the basis of the 

And just here the fictionist, the poet, and the public 
speaker will see the value of productive imagery. True, 
the feet of the idol you build are on the ground, but its 
head pierces the clouds, it is a son of both earth and heaven. 

One fact it is important to note here: Imagery is a 
valuable mental asset in proportion as it is controlled by 
the higher intellectual power of pure reason. The un- 
tutored child of nature thinks largely in images and there- 
fore attaches to them undue importance. He readily 
confuses the real with the imreal — to him they are of 
like value. But the man of training readily distinguishes 
the one from the other and evaluates each with some, 
if not with perfect, justice. 

So we see that imrestrained^imaging may produce a 


rudderless steamer, while the trained faculty is the grace- 
ful sloop, skimming the seas at her skipper's will, her 
course steadied by the helm of reason and her lightsome 
wings catching every air of heaven. 

The game of chess, the war-lord's tactical plan, the 
evolution of a geometrical theorem, the devising of a 
great business campaign, the elimination of waste in a 
factory, the denouement of a powerful drama, the over- 
coming of an economic obstacle, the scheme for a sublime 
poem, and the convincing siege of an audience may — ^nay, 
indeed must — each be conceived in an image and wrought 
to reality according to the plans and specifications laid 
upon the trestle board by some modern imaginative Hiram. 
The farmer who would be content with the seed he pos- 
sesses would have no harvest. Do not rest satisfied with 
the ability to recall images, but cultivate your creative 
imagination by building "what might be" upon the 
foimdation of "what is." 


By this time you will have already made some general 
application of these ideas to the art of the platform, but 
to several specific uses we must now refer. 

I. Imaging in Speech-Preparaiion 

(a) Set the image of your audience before you while you 
prepare. Disappointment may lurk here, and you cannot 
be forearmed for every emergency, but in the main you 
must meet your audience before you actually do — ^image 


its probable mood and attitude toward the occasion, the 
theme, and the speaker. 

(b) Conceive your speech as a whole while you are pre- 
paring its parts, else can you not see — ^image — ^how its 
parts shall be fitly framed together. 

(c) Image the language you will use, so far as written 
or extemporaneous speech may dictate. The habit of 
imaging will give you choice of varied figures of speech, 
for remember that an address without fresh comparisons 
is like a garden without blooms. Do not be content with 
the first hackneyed figure that comes flowing to your pen- 
point, but dream on until the striking, the unusual, yet 
the vividly real comparison points your thought like 
steel does the arrow-tip. 

Note the freshness and effectiveness of the following 
description from the opening of O. Henry's story, "The 

Long before the springtide is felt in the dull bosom of the 
yokel does the dty man know that the grass-green goddess is 
upon her throne. He sits at his breakfast eggs and toast, begirt 
by stone walls, opens his morning paper and sees journalism leave 
vemalism at the post. 

For whereas Spring's couriers were once the evidence of our 
finer senses, now the Associated Press does the trick. 

The warble of the first robin in Hackensack, the stirring of 
the maple sap in Bennington, the budding of the pussy willows 
along the main street in Syracuse, the first chirp of the blue 
bird, the swan song of the blue point, the annual tornado in 
St. Louis, the plaint of the peach pessimist from Pompton, N. J., 
the regtdar visit of the tame wild goose with a broken 1^ to the 
pond near Bilgewater Junction, the base attempt of the Drug 
Trust to boost the price of quinine foiled in the House by Con- 
gressman Jinks, the first tall poplar struck by lightning and the 


usual stunned picknickers who had taken refuge, the first crack 
of the ice jamb in the Allegheny River, the finding of a violet 
in its mossy bed by the correspondent at Round Comers — ^these 
are the advanced signs of the burgeoning season that are wired 
into the wise city, while the farmer sees nothing but winter upon 
his dreary fields. 

But these be mere externals. The true harbinger is the heart. 
When Strephon seeks his CUoe and Mike his Maggie, then only 
is Spring arrived and the newspaper report of the five foot rattler 
killed in Squire Pettregrew's pasture confirmed. 

A hackneyed writer would probably have said that the 
newspaper told the city man about spring before the 
farmer could see any evidence of it, but that the real 
harbinger of spring was love and that ''In the Spring a 
young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." 

2. Imaging in Speech-Delivery 

When once the passion of speech is on you and you are 
"warmed up" — ^perhaps by striking Ml the iron is hot 
so that you may not fail to strike when it is hot — ^your 
mood will be one of vision. 

Then (a) Re-image past emotion — of which more else- 
where. The actor re-calls the old feelings every time he 
renders his telling lines. 

(b) Reconstruct in image the scenes you are to describe, 

(c) Image the objects in nature whose tone you are 
delineating, so that bearing and voice and movement 
(gesture) will picture forth the whole convincingly. 
Instead of merely stating the fact that whiskey ruins 
homes, the temperance speaker paints a drunkard coming 
home to abuse his wife and strike his children. It is much 


more eflFective than telling the truth in abstract terms. To 
depict the cruehiess of war, do not assert the fact ab- 
stractly — " War is cruel." Show the soldier, an arm swept 
away by a bursting shell, lying on the battlefield pleading 
for water; show the children with tear-stained faces 
pressed against the window pane praying for their dead 
father to return. Avoid general and prosaic terms. Paint 
pictures. Evolve images for the imagination of your 
audience to construct into pictures of their own. 


You remember the American statesman who asserted 
that "the way to resume is to resimie"? The application 
is obvious. Beginning with the first simple anal3rses of 
this chapter, test your own qualities of image-making. 
One by one practise the several kinds of images; then add 
— even invent — others in combination, for many images 
come to us in complex form, like the combined noise and 
shoving and hot odor of a cheering crowd. 

After practising on reproductive imaging, turn to the 
productive, beginning with the reproductive and adding 
productive features for the sake of cultivating invention. 

Frequently, allow your originating gifts fuU swing by 
weaving complete imaginary fabrics— sights, sounds, 
scenes; all the fine world of fantasy lies open to the 
journeyings of your winged steed. 

In like manner train yourself in the use of figurative 
language. Learn first to distinguish and then to use its 
varied forms. When used with restraint, nothing can be 
more effective than the trope; but once let extravagance 


creep in by the window, and power will flee by the door. 

All in all, master your images — ^let not them master 



I. Give original examples of each kind of rq)roductive 

3. Build two of these into imaginary incidents for 
platform use, using your productive, or creative, imagin- 

3. Define (a) phantasy; (b) vision; (c) fantastic; 
(d) phantasmagoria; (e) transmogrify; (/) recollection. 

4. What is a "figure of speech"? 

5. Define and give two examples of each of the follow- 
ing figures of speech^. At least one of the examples under 
each type would better be original, (a) simile; (b) meta- 
phor; (c) metonymy; (<f) synecdoche; (e) apostrophe; (/) 
vision; (g) personification; (h) hyperbole; (*) irony. 

6. (a) What is an allegory? (b) Name one example. 
(c) How could a short allegory be used as part of a public 

7. Write a short fable* for use in a speech. Follow 
either the ancient form (iEsop) or the modern (George 
•Ade, Josephine Dodge Daskam). 

8. What do you imderstand by "the historical pre- 
sent?" Illustrate how it may be used (ONLY occasion- 
ally) in a public address. 

9. Recall some disturbance on the street, (a) De- 
scribe it as you would on the platform; (b) imagine what 

^Consult any good rhetoric. An unabridged dictionary will aleo be of help. 
*For a full disouanon of the form see, The Art 0/ Story-Writing, by J. Berg 
Eaenwein and Mary D. Chambem. 


preceded the disturbance; (c) imagine what followed it; 
(d) connect the whole in a terse, dramatic narration for 
the platform and deliver it with careful attention to all 
that you have learned of the public speaker's art. 

10. Do the same with other incidents you have seen, 
or heard of, or read of in the newspapers. 

Note: It is hoped that this exercise wiU be varied and 
expanded until the pupil has gained considerable mastery 
of imaginative narration. (See chapter on ''Narra- 

11. Experiments have proved that the majority of 
people think most vividly in terms of visual images. 
However, some think more readily in terms of auditory 
and motor images. It is a good plan to mix all kinds of 
images in the course of your address for you wiU doubtless 
have all kinds of hearers. This plan ynH serve to give 
variety and strengthen your effects by appealing to the 
several senses of each hearer, as well as interesting many 
different auditors. For exercise, (a) give several original 
examples of compound images, and (b) construct brief 
descriptions of the scenes imagined. For example, the 
falling of a bridge in process of building. 

12. Read the following observantly: 

The strikers suffered bitter poverty last winter in New York. 

Last winter a woman visiting the East Side of New York City 
saw another woman coming out of a tenement house wringing 
her hands. Upon inquiry the visitor found that a child had 
fainted in one of the apartments. She entered, and saw the child 
ill and in rags, while the father, a striker, was too poor to pro- 
vide medical help. A physician was called and said the child had 
fainted from lack of food. The only food in the home was dried 


fiah. The visitor provided groceries for the family and ordered 
the TntllfiTiAn to leave milk for them daily. A month later she 
returned. The father of the family knelt down before her, and 
calling her an angel said that she had saved their lives, for the 
milk she had provided was all the food they had had. 

In the two preceding paragraphs we have substantially 
the same story, told twice. In the first paragraph we 
have a fact stated in general terms. In the second, we 
have an outline picture of a specific happening. Now 
expand this outline into a dramatic recital, drawing freely 
upon your imagination. 



Boys flying kites hatil in their white winged birds; 
You can't do that way when you're flying words. 
"Careful with fire," is good advice we know, 
"Careful with words," is ten times doubly so. 
Thoughts unexpressed many sometimes f aU back dead ; 
But God Himself can't kill them when they're said. 

—Will Carleton, The First SetOer's Story, 

The term " vocabulary '' has a special as well as a general 
meaning. True, all vocabularies are grounded in the 
everyday words of the language, out of which grow the 
special vocabularies, but each such specialized group 
possesses a nimiber of words of peculiar value for its own 
objects. These words may be used in other vocabularies 
also, but the fact that they are suited to a unique order of 
expression marks them as of special value to a particular 
craft or calling. 

In this respect the public speaker differs not at all from 
the poet, the novelist, the scientist, the traveler. He must 
add to his everyday stock, words of value for the public 
presentation of thought. ''A study of the discourses of 
effective orators discloses the fact that they have a fond- 
ness for words signifying power, largeness, speed, action, 
color, light, and all their opposites. They frequently 
employ words expressive of the various emotions. De- 
scriptive words, adjectives used in fresh relations with 
nouns, and apt epithets, are freely employed. Indeed, 


the nature of public speech permits the use of mildly 
exaggerated words which, by the time they have reached 
the hearer's judgment, will leave only a just impression.^" 

Form (he Book-Note Habit 

To possess a word involves three things: To know its 
special and broader meanings, to know its relation to 
other words, and to be able to use it. When you see or 
hear a familiar word used in an unfamiliar sense, jot it 
down, look it up, and master it. We have in mind a 
speaker of superior attainments who acquired his vocabu- 
lary by noting all new words he heard or read. These he 
mastered and put into use. Soon his vocabulary became 
large, varied, and exact. Use a new word accurately five 
times and it is yours. Professor Albert E. Hancock says: 
**An author's vocabulary is of two kinds, latent and 
dynamic: latent — ^those words he understands; dynamic 
— those he can readily use. Every intelligent man knows 
all the words he needs, but he may not have them all ready 
for active service. The problem of literary diction consists 
in turning the latent into the dynamic." Your dynamic 
vocabulary is the one you must especially cultivate. 

In his essay on ''A College Magazine" in the voliune, 
Memories and Portraits, Stevenson shows how he rose from 
imitation to originality in the use of words. He had 
particular reference to the formation of his literary style, 
but words are the raw materials of style, and his excellent 
example may well be followed judiciously by the public 

X How to AUraet and Hold an AudioneOt J. B«is Eaenwein. 


speaker. Words in their rdoHons are vastly more impor- 
tant than words considered singly. , 

Whenever I read a book or a passage that particularly pleased 
me, in which a thing was said or an effect rendered with propriety, 
in which there was either some conspicuous force or some happy 
distinction in the style, I must sit down at once and set myself 
to ape that quality. I was unsuccessful, and I knew it; and tried 
again, and was again unsuccessful, and always tmsuccessful; 
but at least in these vain bouts I got some practice in rhythm, 
in harmony, in construction and coordination of parts. 

I have thus played the sedulous ape to Hazlitt, to Lamb, to 
Wordsworth, to Sir Thomas Browne, to Defoe, to Hawthorne, 
to Montaigne. 

That, like it or not, is the way to learn to write; whether I 
have profited or not, that is the way. It was the way Keats 
learned, and there never was a finer temperament for literature 
than Keats'. 

It is the great point of these imitations that there still shines 
beyond the student's reach, his inimitable model. Let him try 
as he please, he is still sure of failure; and it is an old and very 
true saying that failure is the only highroad to success. 

Form the Reference-Book Habit 

Do not be content with your general knowledge of a 
word — ^press your study until you have mastered its in- 
dividual shades of meaning and usage. Mere fluency is 
sure to become despicable, but accuracy never. The 
dictionary contains the crystallized usage of intellectual 
giants. No one who would write effectively dare despise its 
definitions and discriminations. Think, for example, of 
the different meanings of manUe, or model, or quantity. 
Any late edition of an unabridged dictionary is good, and 
is worth making sacrifices to own. 


Books of synonyms and antonyms — ^used cautiously, 
for there are few perfect synonyms in any language — ^will 
be foimd of great help. Consider the shades of meanings 
among such word-groups as Mef^ pecukUor, defauUer, 
embezzler, burglar, yeggman, robber, bandit, marauder, 
pirate, and many more; or the distinctions among Hebrew, 
Jew, Israelite, and Semite. Remember that no book of 
synonyms is trustworthy unless used with a dictionary. 
"A Thesaurus of the English Language," by Dr. Francis 
A. March, is expensive, but full and authoritative. Of 
smaller books of s3nionyms and antonyms there are plenty.^ 

Study the connectives of English speech. Fernald's 
book on this title is a mine of gems. Unsuspected pit- 
falls lie in the loose use of and, or, for, while, and a score 
of tricky little connectives. 

Word derivations are rich in suggestiveness. Our 
English owes so much to foreign tongues and has changed 
so much with the centuries that whole addresses may grow 
out of a single root-idea hidden away in an ancient word- 
origin. Translation, also, is excellent exercise in word- 
mastery and consorts well with the study of derivations. 

Phrase books that show the origins of familiar expres- 
sions will surprise most of us by showing how carelessly 
everyday speech is used. Brewer's "A Dictionary of 
Phrase, and Fable," Edwards' "Words, Facts, and 
Phrases," and Thornton's "An American Glossary," are 
all good — the last, an expensive work in three volumes. 

A prefix or a suffix may essentially change the force of 

1 A book of BynoDyms and Antonsrma is in prenMuration tat this Miiet, "The 
Writer's libmy/* 


the stem, as in master-ful and master4y, contempl-Me and 
carUempt-uous, envi-aus and eiwi-able. Thus to study words 
in groups, according to their stems, prefixes, and suffixes, 
is to gain a mastery over their shades of meaning, and 
introduce us to other related words. 

Do not Favor one Set or Kind of Words more than Another 

" Sixty years and more ago. Lord Brougham, addressing 
the students of the University of Glasgow, laid down the 
rule that the native (Anglo-Saxon) part of our vocabulary 
was to be favored at the expense of that other part which 
has come from the Latin and Greek. The rule was an 
impossible one, and Lord Brougham himself never tried 
seriously to observe it; nor, in truth, has any great writer 
made the attempt. Not only is our language highly com- 
posite, but the component words have, in De Quincey's 
phrase, 'happily coalesced.' It is easy to jest at words in 
'Osity and -ation, as 'dictionary' words, and the like. But 
even Lord Brougham would have found it difficult to 
dispense with pomposity and imagination"^ 

The short, vigorous Anglo-Saxon will always be pre- 
ferred for passages of special thrust and force, just as the 
Latin will continue to furnish us with flowing and smooth 
expressions; to mingle all sorts, however, will give variety 
— and that is most to be desired. 

Di scuss Words With Those Who Know Them 

Since the language of the platform follows closely the 
diction of everyday speech, many useful words may be 

HUompontion €md Rhetoriet J* M. Hart. 


acquired in conversation with cultivated men, and when 
such discussion takes the form of disputation as to the 
meanings and usages of words, it will prove doubly 
valuable. The development of word-power marches with 
the growth of individuality. 

Search FaUhfutty far the Right Ward 

Books of reference are tripled in value when their owner 
has a passion for getting the kernels out of their shells. Ten 
minutes a day will do wonders for the nut-cracker. "I am 
growing so peevish about my writing," says Flaubert. 
''I am like a man whose ear is true, but who plays falsely 
on the violin: his fingers refuse to reproduce precisely 
those sounds of which he has the inward sense. Then the 
tears come rolling down from the poor scraper's eyes and 
the bow falls from his hand." 

The same brilliant Frenchman sent this sound advice 
to his pupil, Guy de Maupassant: "Whatever may be 
the thing which one wishes to say, there is but one word 
for expressing it, only one verb to animate it, only one 
adjective to qualify it. It is essential to search for this 
word, for this verb, for this adjective, until they are dis- 
covered, and to be satisfied with nothing else." 

Walter Savage Landor once wrote: "I hate false words, 
and seek with care, difficulty, and moroseness those that 
fit the thing." So did Sentimental Tommy, as related by 
James M. Barrie in his novel bearing his hero's name as 
a title. No wonder T. Sandys became an author and a 

Tonuny, with another lad, is writing an essay on "A 


Day in Church," in competition for a university scholar- 
ship. He gets on finely until he pauses for lack of a word. 
For nearly an hour he searches for this elusive thing, until 
suddenly he is told that the allotted time is up, and he 
has lost! Barrie may tell the rest: 

Essay! It was no more an essay than a twig is a tree, for the 
gowk had stuck in the middle of his second page. Yes, stuck is 
the right expression, as his chagrined teacher had to admit when 
the boy was cross-examined. He had not been "up to some of 
his tricks; '* he had stuck, and his explanations, as you will admit, 
merely emphasized his incapacity. 

He had brought himself to public scorn for lack of a word. 
What word? they asked testily; but even now he could not tell. 
He had wanted a Scotch word that would signify how many 
people were in church, and it was on the tip of his tongue, but 
would come no farther. Puckle was nearly the word, but it did 
not mean so many people as he meant. The hour had gone by 
just like winking; he had forgotten all about time while search- 
ing his mind for the word. 

The other five [examiners] were furious. . . . "You little 
tattie doolie," Cathro roared, "were there not a dozen words 
to wile from if you had an ill-will to puckle? What ailed you 
at manzy, or — " 

"I thought of manzy," replied Tonmiy, woefully, for he was 
ashamed of himself, "but — ^but a manzy 's a swarm. It would 
mean that the folk in the kirk were buzzing thegither like bees, 
instead of sitting still." 

" Even if it does mean that," said Mr. Duthie, with impatience, 
"what was the need of being so particular? Surely the art of 
essay-writing consists in using the first word that comes and 
hurrying on." 

"That's how I did," said the proud McLauchlan [Tommy's 
successful competitor]. . . . 

"I see," interposed Mr. Gloag, "that McLauchlan speaks of 
there being a mask of people in the church. Mask is a fine Scotch 


"I thought of mask/* whimpered Tommy, "but that would 
mean the kirk was crammed, and I just meant it to be middling 

"Plow would have done," suggested Mr. Lorrimer. 

"Plow's but a handful," said Tonuny. 

"Curran, then, you jackanapes!" 

"Curran's no enough." 

Mr. Lorrimer fltmg up his hands in despair. 

" I wanted something between curran and mask," said Tommy, 
doggedly, yet almost at the crying. 

Mr. Ogilvy, who had been hiding his admiration with difficulty, 
spread a net for him. "You said you wanted a word that meant 
middling full. Well, why did you not say middling full — or 

"Yes, why not?" demanded the ministers, unconsciously 
caught in the net. 

"I wanted one word," replied Tommy, unconsciously avoid- 
ing it. 

"You jewel!" muttered Mr. Ogilvy under his breath, but 
Mr. Cathro would have banged the boy's head had not the 
ministers interfered. 

" It is so easy, too, to find the right word," said Mr. Gloag. 

"It's no; it's difficult as to hit a squirrel," cried Tommy, 
and again Mr. Ogilvy nodded approval. 

And then an odd thing happened. As they were preparing to 
leave the school [Cathro having previously run Tommy out by 
the neck], the door opened a little and there appeared in the 
aperture the face of Tommy, tear-stained but excited. "I ken 
the word now," he cried, "it came to me a* at once; it is hantle! " 

Mr. Ogilvy .... said in an ecstasy to himself, "He 
had to think of it till he got it — ^and he got it. The laddie 
is a genius!" 


1. What is the derivation of the word vocabulary? 

2. Briefly discuss any complete speech given in this 


volume, with reference to (a) exactness, (b) variety, and 
(c) charm, in the use of words. 

3. Give original examples of the kinds of word-studies 
referred to on pages 337 and 338. 

4. Deliver a short talk on any subject, using at least 
five words which have not been previously in your "djma- 
mic" vocabulary. 

5. Make a list of the unfamiliar words found in any 
address you may select. 

6. Deliver a short extemporaneous speech giving 
your opinions on the merits and demerits of the use of 
unusual words in public speaking. 

7. Try to find an example of the over-use of unusual 
words in a speech. 

8. Have you used reference books in word studies? 
If so, state with what result. 

9. Find as many synonyms and antonyms as possible 
for each of the following words: Excess, Rare, Severe^ 
Beautiful, Clear, Happy, Difference, Care, Skillful, In- 
volve, Enmity, Profit, Absurd, Evident, Faint, Friendly^ 
Harmony, Hatred, Honest, Inherent. 



Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, 
Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; 
Awake but one, and lo! what myriads rise! 
Each stamps its image as the other flies! 


• ••••••• 

Hail, memory, hail ! in thy exhausUess mine 
From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine! 
Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, 
And Place and Time are subject to thy sway! 

— Samuel Rogers, Pleasures of Memory. 

Many an orator, like Thackeray, has made the best 
part of his speech to himself — on the way home from the 
lecture hall. Presence of mind — ^it remained for Mark 
Twain to observe — ^is greatly promoted by absence of 
body. A hole in the memory is no less a common com- 
plaint than a distressing one. 

Henry Ward Beecher was able to deliver one of the 
world's greatest addresses at Liverpool because of his 
excellent memory. In speaking of the occasion Mr. 
Beecher said that all the events, arguments and appeals 
that he had ever heard or read or written seemed to pass 
before his mind as oratorical weapons, and standing there 
he had but to reach forth his hand and "seize the weapons 
as they went smoking by." Ben Jonson could repeat all 
he had written. Scaliger memorized the Iliad in three 
weeks. Locke says: "Without memory, man is a per- 


petual infant." Quintilian and Aristotle regarded it as a 
measure of genius. 

Now all this is very good. We all agree that a reliable 
memory is an invaluable possession for the speaker. We 
never dissent for a moment when we are solemnly told 
that his memory should be a storehouse from which at 
pleasure he can draw facts, fancies, and illustrations. But 
can the memory be trained to act as the warder for all the 
truths that we have gained from thinking, reading, and 
experience? And if so, how? Let us see. 

Twenty years ago a poor immigrant boy, employed as a 
dish washer in New York, wandered into the Cooper 
Union and began to read a copy of Henry George's 
"Progress and Poverty." His passion for knowledge was 
awakened, and he became a habitual reader. But he 
foimd that he was not able to remember what he read, so 
he b^an to train his naturally poor memory until he 
became the world's greatest memory expert. This man 
was the late Mr. Felix Berol. Mr. Berol could tell the 
population of any town in the world, of more than five 
thousand inhabitants. He could recall the names of forty 
strangers who had just been introduced to him and was 
able to tell which had been presented third, eighth, 
seventeenth, or in any order. He knew the date of every 
important event in history, and could not only recall an 
endless array of facts but could correlate them perfectly. 

To what extent Mr. Berol's remarkable memory was 
natural and required only attention, for its develc^ment, 
seems impossible to deteraune with exactness, but the 
evidence clearly indicates that, however usdess were 


many of his memory feats, a highly retentive memory 

was developed where before only "a good foigettery" 


The freak memory is not worth striving for, but a good 

working memory decidedly is. Your power as a speaker 

will depend to a large extent upon your ability to retain 

impressions and caU them forth when occasion demands, 

and that sort of memory is like muscle — ^it responds to 


Wk(U Not to Do 

It is sheer misdirected effort to begin to memorize by 
learning words by rote, for that is beginning to build a 
pyramid at the apex. For years oiu* schools were cursed 
by this vicious S3rstem — ^vidous not only because it is 
inefficient but for the more important reason that it hurts 
the mind. True, some minds are natively endowed with 
a wonderful facility in remembering strings of words, 
facts, and figures, but such are rarely good reasoning 
minds; the normal person must belabor and force the 
memory to acquire in this artificial way. 

Again, it is hurtful to force the memory in hours of 
physical weakness or mental weariness. Health is the 
basis of the best mental action and the operation of 
memory is no exception. 

Finally, do not become a slave to a system. Knowledge 
of a few simple facts of mind and memory will set you to 
work at the right end of the operation. Use these prin- 
ciples, whether included in a system or not, but do not 
bind yourself to a method that tends to lay more stress 
on the way to remember than on the development of 


memory itself. It is nothing short of ridiculous to memo- 
rize ten words in order to remember one fact. 

The Natural Laws of Memory 

Concentrated attention at the time when you wish to 
store the mind is the first step in memorizing — ^and the 
most important one by far. You forgot the fourth of the 
list of articles your wife asked you to bring home chiefly 
because you allowed yoiu* attention to waver for an instant 
when she was telling you. Attention may not be concen- 
trated attention. When a siphon is charged with gas it 
is sufficiently filled with the carbonic add vapor to make 
its influence felt; a mind charged with an idea is 
charged to a degree sufficient to hold it. Too much charg- 
ing will make the siphon burst; too much attention to 
trifles leads to insanity. Adequate attention, then, is 
the fundamental secret of remembering. 

Generally we do not give a fact adequate attention 
when it does not seem important. Almost everyone has 
seen how the seeds in an apple point, and has memorized 
the date of Washington's death. Most of us have — ^per- 
haps wisely — ^forgotten both. The little nick in the bark 
of a tree is healed over and obliterated in a season, but 
the gashes in the trees around Gett3rsburg are still appiarent 
after fifty years. Impressions that are gathered lightly 
are soon obliterated. Only deep impressions can be re- 
called at will. Henry Ward Beecher said: ''One intense 
hour will do more than dreamy years." To memorize 
ideas and words, concentrate on them until they are fixed 
firmly and deeply in your mind and accord to them their 


true importance. Listen with the mind and you will 

How shall you concentrate? How would you increase 
the fighting-effectiveness of a man-of-war? One vital 
way would be to increase the size and number of its guns. 
To strengthen your memory, increase both the number 
and the force of your mental impressions by attending to 
them intensely. Loose, skimming reading, and drifting 
habits of reading destroy memory power. However, as 
most books and newspapers do not warrant any other 
kind of attention, it will not do altogether to condemn this 
method of reading; but avoid it when you are tr3dng to 

Environment has a strong influence upon concentration, 
until you have learned to be alone in a crowd and undis- 
turbed by clamor. When you set out to memorize a fact 
or a speech, you may find the task easier away from all 
sounds and moving objects. All impressions foreign to 
the one you desire to fix in your mind must be eliminated. 

The next great step in memorizing is to pick out the 
essentials of the subject, arrange them in order, and dwell 
upon them intently. Think clearly of each essential, one 
after the other. Thinking a thing — not allowing the mind 
to wander to non-essentials — ^is really memorizing. 

Association of ideas is universally recognized as an 
essential in memory work; indeed, whole systems of 
memory training have been founded on this principle. 

Many speakers memorize only the outlines of their 
addresses, filling in the words at the moment of speaking. 
Some have found it helpful to remember an outline by 


associating the different points with objects in the room. 
Speaking on "Peace," you may wish to dweU on the cost, 
the cruelty, and the failure of war, and so lead to the 
justice of arbitration. Before going on the platform if 
you will associate four divisions of your outline with four 
objects in the room, this association may help you to 
recall them. You may be prone to forget your third point, 
but you remember that once when you were speaking the 
electric lights failed, so arbitrarily the electric light globe 
will help you to remember "failure." Such associations, 
being unique, tend to stick in the mind. While recently 
speaking on the six kinds of imagination the present writer 
formed them into an acrostic — visual, audUory, motor , 
gustatory^ olfactoryy and tactile, furnished the nonsense 
word vamgot, but the six points were easily remembered. 

In the same way that children are taught to remember 
the spelling of teasing words — separate comes from separ — 
and as an automobile driver remembers that two C's and 
then two H's lead him into Castor Road, Cottman Street, 
Haynes Street and Henry Street, so important points in 
your address may be fixed in mind by arbitrary s3mibols 
invented by yourself. The very work of devising the 
scheme is a memory action. . The psychological process 
is simple: it is one of noting intently the steps by which a 
fact, or a truth, or even a word, has come to you. Take 
advantage of this tendency of the mind to remember by 

RepeHiion is a powerful aid to memory. .Thuriow 
Weed, the journalist and political leader, was troubled 
because he so easily forgot the names of persons he met 


from day to day. He corrected the weakness, relates 
Professor William James, by forming the habit of attend- 
ing carefully to names he had heard during the day and 
then repeating them to his wife every evening. Doubt- 
less Mrs. Weed was heroically longsufFering, but the 
device worked admirably. 

After reading a passage you would remember, dose the 
book, reflect, and repeat the contents — aloud, if possible. 

Reading thoughtfully aloud has been foimd by many to 
be a helpful memory practise. 

Write what you wish to remember. This is simply one 
more way of increasing the number and the strength of 
your mental impressions by utilizing aU yoiu* avenues of 
impression. It will help to fix a speech in your mind if 
you speak it aloud, listen to it, write it out, and look at it 
intently. You have then impressed it on your mind by 
means of vocal, auditory, muscular and visual impressions. 

Some folk have peculiarly distinct auditory memories; 
they are able to recall things heard much better than things 
seen. Others have the visual memory; they are best able 
to recall sight-impressions. As you recall a walk you have 
taken, are you able to remember better the sights or the 
sounds? Find out what kinds of impressions yoiu* memory 
retains best, and use them the most. To fix an idea in 
mind, use every possible kind of impression. 

Daily habit is a great memory cultivator. Learn a 
lesson from the Marathon runner. R^ular exercise, 
though never so little daily, will strengthen your memory in 
a surprising measure. Try to describe in detail the dress, 
looks and manner of the people you pass on the street. 


Observe the room you are in, dose your eyes, and describe 
its contents. View closely the landscape, and write out 
a detailed description of it. How much did you miss? 
Notice the contents of the show windows on the street; 
how many features are you able to recall? Continual 
practise in this feat may develop in you as remarkable 
proficiency as it did in Robert Houdin and his son. 

The daily memorizing of a beautiful passage in litera- 
tiu'e will not only lend strength to the memory, but will 
store the mind with gems for quotation. But whether 
by little or much add daily to your memory power by 

Memorize <nU of doors. The buoyancy of the wood, the 
shore, or the stormy night on deserted streets may freshen 
your mind as it does the minds of countless others. 

Lastly, cast out fear. Tell yourself that you can and 
wUl and do remember. By pure exercise of selfism assert 
your mastery. Be obsessed with the fear of forgetting 
and you cannot remember. Practise the reverse. Throw 
aside your manuscript crutches — ^you may timible once 
or twice, but what matters that, for you are going to 
learn to walk and leap and run. 

Memorizing a Speech 

Now let us try to put into practise the foregoing sug- 
gestions. First, reread this chapter, noting the nine ways 
by which memorizing may be helped. 

Then read over the following selection from Beecher, 
applying so many of the suggestions as are practicable. 
Get the spirit of the selection firmly in your mind. Make 


mental note of — ^write down, if you must — the succession 
of ideas. Now memorize the thought. Then memorize 
the outline, the order in which the different ideas are 
expressed. Finally, memorize the exact wording. 

No, when you have done all this, with the most faith- 
ful attention to directions, you will not find memorizing 
easy, unless you have previously trained yoiu* memeory, or 
it is naturally retentive. Only by constant practise will 
memory become strong and only by continually observing 
these same principles will it remain strong. You will, 
however, have made a beginning, and that is no mean 


I do not suppose that if you were to go and look upon the 
experiment of self-government in America you would have a 
very high opinion of it. I have not either, if I just look upon the 
surface of things. Why, men will say: " It stands to reason that 
60,000,000 ignorant of law, ignorant of constitutional history, 
ignorant of jurisprudence, of finance, and taxes and tariffs and 
forms of currency — 60,000,000 people that never studied these 
things — ^are not fit to rule. Your diplomacy is as complicated 
as ours, and it is the most complicated on earth, for all things 
grow in complexity as they develop toward a higher condition. 
What fitness is there in these people? Well, it is not democracy 
merely; it is a representative democracy. Our people do not 
vote in mass for anything; they pick out captains of thought, 
they pick out the men that do know, and they send them to the 
Legislature to think for them, and then the people afterward 
ratify or disallow them. 

But when you come to the Legislature I am botmd to confess 
that the thing does not look very much more cheering on the 
outside. Do they really select the best men? Yes; in times of 
danger they do very generally, but in ordinary time, "kissing 
goes by favor." You know what the duty of a regular Republican- 


Democratic legislator is. It is to get back again next winter. 
His second duty is what? His second duty is to put himself under 
that extraordinary providence that takes care of legislators* 
salaries. The old miracle of the prophet and the meal and the 
oil is outdone immeasurably in our days, for they go there poor 
one year, and go home rich; in four years they become money- 
lenders, all by a trust in that gracious providence that takes care 
of legislators' salaries. Their next duty after that is to serve the 
party that sent them up, and then, if there is anything left of 
them, it belongs to the commonwealth. Someone has said very 
wisely, that if a man traveling wishes to relish his dinner he had 
better not go into the kitchen to see where it is cooked; if a 
man wishes to respect and obey the law, he had better not go 
to the Legislature to see where that is cooked. 

Henry Ward Bbbcher. 
Prom a lecture delivered in Exeter HaU, London, 
1886, when making his last tour of Great Britain. 

In Case of Trouble 

But what are you to do if, notwithstanding all your 
efforts, you should forget your points, and your mind, for 
the minute, becomes blank? This is a deplorable oondi- 
tion that sometimes arises and must be dealt with. Ob- 
viously, you can sit down and admit defeat. Such a 
consununation is devoutly to be shunned. 

Walking slowly across the platform may give you time 
to grip yourself, compose your thoughts, and stave off 
disaster. Perhaps the siu'est and most practical method 
is to b^n a new sentence with yoiu* last important word. 
This is not advocated as a method of composing a speech — 
it is merely an extreme measure which may save you in 
tight circumstances. It is like the fire department — ^the 
less you must use it the better. If this method is followed 
very long you are likely to find yourself talking about 


plum pudding or Chinese Gordon in the most unexpected 
manner, so of course you will get back to your lines the 
earliest moment that your feet have hit the platform. 

Let us see how this plan works — obviously, your ex- 
temporized words will lack somewhat of polish, but in 
such a pass crudity is better than failure. 

Now you have come to a dead wall after saying: "Joan 
of Arc fought for liberty." By this method you might 
get something like this: 

"Liberty is a sacred privilege for which mankind always 
had to fight. These struggles [Platitude — but push on] 
fill the pages of history. History records the gradual 
triumph of the serf over the lord, the slave over the master. 
The master has continually tried to usurp unlimited 
powers. Power during the medieval ages accrued to the 
owner of the land with a spear and a strong castle; but 
the strong castle and spear were of little avail after the 
discovery of gtmpowder. Gimpowder was the greatest 
boon that liberty had ever known." 

Thus far you have linked one idea with another rather 
obviously, but you are getting your second wind now and 
may venture to relax your grip on the too-evident chain; 
and so you say: 

"With gunpowder the humblest serf in all the land 
could put an end to the life of the t3rrannical baron behind 
the castle walls. The struggle for liberty, with gunpowder 
as its aid, wrecked empires, and built up a new era for all 

In a moment more you have gotten back to your outline 
and the day is saved. 



Practismg exercises like the above will not only fortify 
you against the death of your speech when your memory 
misses fire, but it will also provide an excellent training 
for fluency in speaking. Stock up wUh ideas. 


1 . Pick out and state briefly the nine helps to memoriz- 
ing suggested in this chi^ter. 

2. Report on whatever success you may have had 
with any of the plans for memory culture suggested in 
this chapter. Have any been less successful than others? 

3. Freely criticise any of the suggested methods. 

4. Give an original example of memory by association 
of ideas. 

5. List in order the chief ideas of any speech in this 

6. Repeat them from memory. 

7. Expand them into a speech, using yoiu* own words. 

8. Illustrate practically what would you do, if in the 
midst of a speech on Progress, yoiu* memory failed you 
and you stopped suddenly on the following sentence: 
"The last century saw marvelous progress in varied lines 
of activity." 

9. How many quotations that fit well in the speaker's 
tool chest can you recall from memory? 

10. Memorize the poem on page 42. How much time 
does it require? 



Whatever crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever 
name it may be called. — ^John Stuart Mnx, On Liberty. 

Right thinking fits for complete living by developing the 
power to appreciate the beautiful in nature and art, power to 
think the true and to will the good, power to live the Jife of 
thought, and faith, and hope, and love. 

— N. C. SCHAEPFER, Thinking and Learning to Think, 

The speaker's most valuable possession is personality — 
that indefinable, imponderable something which sums up 
what we are, and makes us difPerent from others; that 
distinctive force of self which operates appreciably on 
those whose lives we. touch. It is personality alone that 
makes us long for higher things. Rob us of our sense of 
individual life, with its gains and losses, its duties and 
joys, and we grovel. "Few human creatures," says 
John Stuart Mill, "would consent to be changed into any 
of the lower animals for a promise of the fullest allowance 
of a beast's pleasures; no intelligent htmian being would 
consent to be a fool, no instructed person would be an 
ignoramus, no person of feeling and conscience would be 
selfish and base, even though he should be persuaded that 
the fool, or the dunce, or the rascal is better satisfied with 
his lot than they with theirs. ... It is better to be a 
himmn being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied, better to be 
a Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the 


fool or the pig is of a different opinion, it is only because 
they know only their own side of the question. The other 
party to the comparison knows both sides." 

Now it is precisely because the Socrates type of person 
lives on the plan of right thinking and restrained feeling 
and willing that he prefers his state to that of the animal. 
All that a man is, all his happiness, his sorrow, his achieve- 
ments, his failures, his magnetism, his weakness, all are 
in an amazingly large measure the direct results of his 
thinking. Thought and heart combine to produce right 
thinking: "As a man thinketh in his heart so is he." As 
he does not think in his heart so he can never become. 

Since this is true, personality can be developed and its 
latent powers brought out by careful cultivation. We 
have long since ceased to believe that we are living in a 
realm of chance. So clear and exact are nature's laws 
that we forecast, scores of years in advance, the appearance 
of a certain comet and foretell to the minute an edipse of 
the Sun. And we understand this law of cause and effect 
in all our material realms. We do not plant potatoes and 
expect to pluck hyacinths. The law is universal: it 
applies to our mental powers, to morality, to personality, 
quite as much as to the heavenly bodies and the grain of 
the fields. ''Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also 
reap," and nothing else. 

Character has always been r^arded as one of the chief 
factors of the speaker's power. Cato defined the orator 
as tir bonus dicendi peritus — a good man skilled in speaking. 
Phillips Brooks says: "Nobody can truly stand as an 
utterer before the world, unless he be profoundly living 


and earnestly thinking." " Character/' says Emerson, ''is 
a natural power, like light and heat, and all nature co- 
operates with it. The reason why we feel one man's 
presence, and do not feel another's is as simple as gravity. 
Truth is the sunmiit of being: justice is the application of 
it to affairs. All individual natures stand in a scale, 
according to the purity of this element in them. The will 
of the pure runs down into other natures, as water runs 
down from a higher into a lower vessel. This natural 
force is no more to be withstood than any other natural 
force. . . . Character is nature in the highest form." 

It is absolutely impossible for impure, bestial and selfish 
thoughts to blossom into loving and altruistic habits. 
Thistle seeds bring forth only the thistle. Contrariwise, it 
is entirely impossible for continual altruistic, S3anpathetic, 
and serviceful thoughts to bring forth a low and vidous 
character. Either thoughts or feelings precede and de- 
termine all our actions. Actions develop into habits, 
habits constitute character, and character determines 
destiny. Therefore to guard oiu* thoughts and control 
our feelings is to shape our destinies. The syllogism is 
complete, and old as it is it is still true. 

Since ''character is nature in the highest form," the 
development of character must proceed on natural lines. 
The garden left to itself will bring forth weeds and scrawny 
plants, but the flower-beds nurtured carefully will blossom 
into fragrance and beauty. 

As the student entering collie largely determines his 
vocation by choosing from the different courses of the 
curriculum, so do we choose oiu* characters by choosing 


our thoughts. We are steadily going up toward that 
which we most wish for, or steadily sinking to the level of 
our low desires. What we secretly cherish in our hearts 
is a sjrmbol of what we shall receive. Our trains of thoughts 
are hurrying us on to our destiny. When you see the 
flag fluttering to the South, you know the wind is coming 
from the North. When you see the straws and papers 
being carried to the Northward you realize the wind is 
blowing out of the South. It is just as easy to ascertain 
a man's thoughts by observing the tendency of his 

Let it not be suspected for one moment that all this is 
merely a preachment on the question of morals. It is 
that, but much more, for it touches the whole man — his 
imaginative nature, his ability to control his feelings, the 
mastery of his thinking faculties, and — ^perhaps most 
largely — ^his power to will and to carry his volitions into 
effective action. 

Right thinking constantly assumes that the will sits 
enthroned to execute the dictates of mind, conscience and 
heart. Never tolerate far an instant the suggestion thai your 
will is not absolutely efficient. The way to will is to will — 
and the very first time you are tempted to break a worthy 
resolution — and you will be, you may be certain of that — 
make your fight then and there. You cannot afford to lose 
that fight. You must win it— don't swerve for an instant, 
but keep that resolution if it kills you. It will not, but 
you must fight just as though life depended on the victory; 
and indeed your personality may actually lie in the 


Your success or failure as a speaker will be detenmned 
very largely by your thoughts and your mental atti- 
tude. The present writer had a student of limited educa- 
tion enter one of his classes in public speaking. He proved 
to be a very poor speaker; and the instructor could con- 
scientiously do little but point out faults. However, the 
young man was warned not to be discouraged. With 
sorrow in his voice and the essence of earnestness beaming 
from his eyes, he replied: ''I will not be discouraged! I 
want so badly to know how to speak!" It was warm, 
human, and from the very heart. And he did keep on 
trying — and developed into a creditable speaker. 

There is no power imder the stars that can defeat a man 
with that attitude. He who down in the deeps of his 
heart earnestly longs to get facility in speaking, and is 
willing to make the sacrifices necessary, will reach his goal. 
''Ask and ye shall receive; seek and ye shall find; knock 
and it shall be opened unto you," is indeed applicable to 
those who would acquire speech-power. You will not 
realize the prize that you wish for languidly, but the goal 
that you start out to attain with the spirit of the old guard 
that dies but never surrenders, you will surely reach. 

Your belief in your ability and your willingness to make 
sacrifices for that belief, are the double index to your 
future achievements. Lincoln had a dream of his possi- 
bilities as a speaker. He transmuted that dream into life 
solely because he walked many miles to borrow books 
which he read by the log-fire glow at night. He 
sacrificed much to realize his vision. Livingstone had a 
great faith in his ability to serve the benighted races of 


Africa. To actualize that faith he gave up all. Leaving 
England for the interior of the Dark Continent he struck 
the death blow to Europe's profits from the slave trade. 
Joan of Arc had great self-confidence, glorified by an 
infinite capacity for sacrifice. She drove the English 
beyond the Loire, and stood beside Charles while he was 

These all realized their strongest desires. The law is 
universal. Desire greatly, and you shall achieve; sacri- 
fice much, and you shall obtain. 

Stanton Davis Kirkham has beautifully expressed this 
thought: "You may be keeping accounts, and presently 
you shall walk out of the door that has for so long seemed 
to you the barrier of your ideals, and shall find yourself 
before an audience — the pen still behind your ear, the ink 
stains on your fingers — ^and then and there shall pour out 
the torrent of your inspiration. You may be driving 
sheep, and you shall wander to the dty — ^bucolic and 
open-mouthed; shall wander imder the intrepid guidance 
of the spirit into the studio of the master, and after a time 
he shall say, ' I have nothing more to teach you.' And now 
you have become the master, who did so recently dream 
of great things while driving sheep. You shall lay down 
the saw and the plane to take upon yourself the regenera- 
tion of the world." 


1. What, in your own words, is personality? 

2. How does personality in a speaker affect you as a 



3. In what ways does personality show itself in a 

4. Deliver a short speech on "The Power of Will in 
the Public Speaker." 

5. Deliver a short address based on any sentence you 
choose from this chapter. 




The perception of the ludicrous is a pledge of sanity. 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays. 

And let him be stire to leave other men their turns to speak. 
— Francis Bacon, Essay on CivU and Moral Discourse, 

Perhaps the most brilliant, and certainly the most 
entertaining, of all speeches are those delivered on after- 
dinner and other special occasions. The air of weU-fed 
content in the former, and of expectancy well primed in 
the latter, furnishes an audience which, though not 
readily won, is prepared for the best, while the speaker 
himself is pretty sure to have been chosen for his gifts of 

The first essential of good occasional speaking is to 
study the occasion. Precisely what is the object of the 
meeting? How important is the occasion to the audience? 
How large will the audience be? What sort of people are 
they? How large is the auditorium? Who selects the 
speakers' themes? Who else is to speak? What are they 
to speak about? Precisely how long am I to speak? Who 
speaks before I do and who follows? 

If you want to hit the nail on the head ask such ques- 
tions as these. ^ No occasional address can succeed imless 

>6ee alao pace a05. 




it fits the occasion to a T. Many prominent men have 
lost prestige because they were too careless or too. busy 
or too self-confident to respect the occasion and the audi- 
ence by learning the exact conditions under which they 
were to speak. Leaving too much to the moment is taking 
a long chance and generally means a less effective speech, 
if not a failure. 

Suitability is the big thing in an occasional speech. 
When Mark Twain addressed the Army of the Tennessee 
in reunion at Chicago, in 1877, he responded to the toast, 
"The Babies." Two things in that after-dinner speech 
are remarkable: the bright introduction, by which he ' 
subtly claimed the interest of all, and the humorous use 
of military terms throughout: 

Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen: "The Babies.*' Now, that's 
something like. We haven't all had the good fortune to be ladies; 
we have not all been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when 
the toast works down to the babies, we stand on conmion ground 
— for we've all been babies. It is a shame that for a thousand 
years the world's banquets have utterly ignored the baby, as if 
he didn't amount to anything! If you, gentlemen, will stop and 
think a minute — if you will go back fifty or a hundred years, to 
your early married life, and recontemplate your first baby — ^you 
will remember that he amounted to a good deal — and even some- 
thing over. 

"As a vessel is known by the sound, whether it be 
cracked or not," said Demosthenes, "so men are proved 
by their speeches whether they be wise or foolish." Surely 
the occasional address furnishes a severe test of a speaker's 
wisdom. To be trivial on a serious occasion, to be fimereal 
at a banquet, to be long-windedjever — ^these are the marks 


of lion-sense. Some imprudent souls seem to select the 
most friendly of after-dinner occasions for the explosion 
of a bc>mb-shell of dispute. Around the dinner table it is 
the custom of even political enemies to bury their hatchets 
an3rwhere rather than in some convenient skull. It is 
the height of bad taste to raise questions that in hours 
consecrated to good-will can only irritate. 

Occasional speeches offer good chances for humor, par- 
ticularly the funny story, for humor with a genuine point 
is not trivial. But do not spin a whole skein of humorous 
yarns with no more connection than the inane and thread- 
bare "And that reminds me." An anecdote without 
bearing may be funny but one less fimny that fits theme 
and occasion is far preferable. There is no way, short of 
sheer power of speech, that so surely leads to the heart of 
an audience as rich, appropriate humor. The scattered 
diners in a great banqueting hall, the after-dinner lethargy, 
the anxiety over approaching last-train time, the over- 
full list of over-full speakers — ^all throw out a challenge 
to the speaker to do his best to win an interested hearing. 
And when success does come it is usually due to a lu^py 
mixtiire of seriousness and humor, for humor alone rarely 
scores so heavily as the two combined, while the utterly 
grave speech never does on such occasions. 

If there is one place more than another where second- 
hand opinions and platitudes are unwelcome it is in the 
after-dinner speech. Whether you are toast-master or 
the last speaker to try to hold the waning crowd at mid- 
night, be as original as you can. How is it possible to 
siunmarize the qualities that go to make up the good after- 


dinner speech, when we remember the inimitable serious- 
drollery of Mark Twain, the sweet southern eloquence of 
Henry W. Grady, the funereal gravity of the humorous 
Charles Battell Loomis, the charm of Henry Van Dyke, 
the geniality of F. Hopkinson Smith, and the all-round 
delightfulness of Chauncey M. Depew? America is 
literally rich in such gladsome speakers, who pimctuate 
real sense with nonsense, and so make both effective. 

Commemorative occasions, unveilings, commencements, 
dedications, eulogies, and all the train of special public 
gatherings, offer rare opportunities for the display of 
tact and good sense in handling occasion, theme, and audi- 
ence. When to be dignified and when colloquial, when to 
soar and when to ramble arm in arm with your hearers, 
when to flame and when to soothe, when to instruct and 
when to amuse — ^in a word, the whole matter of appro- 
PRIAXENESS must Constantly be in mind lest you write 
your speech on water. 

Finally, remember the beatitude: Blessed is the man 
that maketh short speeches, for he shall be invited to 
speak again. 




The Rapidan suggests another scene to which allusion has 
often been made since the war, but which, as illustrative also of 
the spirit of both armies, I may be permitted to recall in this 
connection. In the mellow twilight of an April day the two 
armies were holding their dress parades on the opposite hills 


bordering the river. At the close of the parade a magnificent 
brass band of the Union army played with great spirit the 
patriotic airs, * * Hail Columbia, * ' and ' ' Yankee Doodle. ' ' Where- 
upon the Federal troops responded with a patriotic shout. The 
same band then played the soul-stirring strains of "Dixie," to 
which a mighty response came from ten thousand Southern 
troops. A few moments later, when the stars had come out as 
witnesses and when all nature was in harmony, there came from 
the same band the old melody, "Home, Sweet Home." As its 
familiar and pathetic notes rolled over the water and thrilled 
through the spirits of the soldiers, the hills reverberated with a 
thundering response from the tmited voices of both armies. What 
was there in this old, old music, to so touch the chords of sym- 
pathy, so thrill the spirits and cause the frames of brave men to 
tremble with emotion? It was the thought of home. To thou- 
sands, doubtless, it was the thought of that Eternal Home to 
which the next battle might be the gateway. To thousands of 
others it was the thought of their dear earthly homes, where 
loved ones at that twilight hotir were bowing round the family 
altar, and asking God*s care over the absent soldier boy. 

— General J. B. Gordon, C. S. A. 



Let me ask you to imagine that the contest, in which the 
United States asserted their independence of Great Britain, had 
been unsuccessful; that our armies, through treason or a league 
of tyrants against us, had been broken and scattered; that the 
great men who led them, and who swayed our councils — our 
Washington, our Franklin, and the venerable president of the 
American Congress — ^had been driven forth as exiles. If there 
had existed at that day. in any part of the civilized world, a 
powerful Republic, with institutions resting on the same founda- 
tions of liberty which our own countrymen sought to establish, 
would there have been in that Republic any hospitality too 
cordial, any sympathy too deep, any zeal for their glorious but 
unfortunate cause, too fervent or too active to be shown toward 


these illustrious fugitives? Gentlemen, the case I have supposed 
is before you. The Washingtons, the Franklins, the Hancocks 
of Hungary, driven out by a far worse tyranny than was ever 
endured here, are wanderers in foreign lands. Some of them have 
sought a refuge in our country — one sits with this company our 
guest to-night — and we must measure the duty we owe them by 
the same standard which we would have had history apply, if 
our ancestors had met with a fate like theirs. 

— William Cullbn Bryant. 



When the excitement of party warfare presses dangerously 
near our national safeguards, I would have the intelligent con- 
servatism of otir universities and collies warn the contestants 
in impressive tones against the perils of a breach impossible to 

When popular discontent and passion are stimulated by the 
arts of designing partisans to a pitch perilously near to class 
hatred or sectional anger, I would have our universities and col- 
leges sound the alarm in the name of American brotherhood and 
fraternal dependence. 

When the attempt is made to delude the people into the belief 
that their suffrages can change the operation of national laws, I 
would have our tmiversities and colleges proclaim that those 
laws are inexorable and far removed from political control. 

When selfish interest seeks undue private benefits through 
governmental aid, and public places are claimed as rewards of 
party service, I would have our universities and colleges persuade 
the people to a relinquishment of the demand for party spoils 
and exhort them to a disinterested and patriotic love of their 
government, whose unperverted operation secures to every citizen 
his just share of|the safety and prosperity it holds in store for all. 

I would have the influence of these institutions on the side of 
religion and morality. I would have those they send out among 
the people not ashamed to acknowledge God, and to proclaim 
His interposition in the affairs of men, enjoining such obedience 
to His laws as makes manifest the path of national perpetuity 


and prosperity — Grover Cleveland, delivered at the Prinoeton 
Sesqui-Centennial, 1896. 



Great in life, he was surpassingly great in death. For no 
cause, in the very frenzy of wantonness and wickedness, by the 
red hand of murder, he was thrust from the full tide of this 
world's interest, from its hopes, its aspirations, its victories, into 
the visible presence of death — and he did not quail. Not alone 
for the one short moment in which, stunned and dazed, he could 
give up life, hardly aware of its relinquishment, but through days 
of deadly languor, through weeks of agony, that was not less 
agony because silently borne, with dear sight and calm courage, 
he looked into his open grave. What blight and ruin met his 
anguished eyes, whose lips may tell — ^what brilliant, broken 
plans, what baffled, high ambitions, what sundering of strong, 
warm, manhood's friendships, what bitter rending of sweet 
household ties! Behind him a proud, expectant nation, a great 
host of sustaining friends, a cherished and happy mother, wear- 
ing the full rich honors of her early toil and tears; the wife of 
his youth, whose whole life lay in his; the little boys not yet 
emerged from childhood's day of frolic; the fair young daughter; 
the sturdy sons just springing into closest companionship, claim- 
ing every day and every day rewarding a father's love and care; 
and in his heart the eager, rejoicing power to meet all demand. 
Before him, desolation and great darkness! And his soul was 
not shaken. His countrymen were thrilled with instant, pro- 
f otmd and universal sympathy. Masterful in his mortal weak- 
ness, he became the centre of a nation's love, enshrined in the 
prayers of a world. But all the love and all the ssrmpathy could 
not share with him his suffering. He trod the wine press alone. 
With unfaltering front he faced death. With unfailing tender- 
ness he took leave of life. Above the demoniac hiss of the 
assassin's bullet he heard the voice of God. With simple resig- 
nation he bowed to the Divine decree. — ^James G. Blaine., 
delivered at the memorial service held by the U. S. Senate and 
House of Representatives. 



At the bottom of all trae heroism is unselfishiiess. Its crown- 
ing expression is sacrifice. The world is suspicious of vatmted 
heroes. But when the true hero has come, and we know that 
here he is in verity, ah! how the hearts of men leap forth to greet 
him! how worshipfully we welcome God's noblest work — ^the 
strong, honest, fearless, upright man. In Robert Lee was such 
a hero vouchsafed to us and to mankind, and whether we behold 
him declining command of the federal army to fight the battles 
and share the miseries of his own people; proclaiming on the 
heights in front of Gettysburg that the fault of the disaster was 
his own; leading charges in the crisis of combat; walking under 
the yoke of conquest without a murmur of complaint; or refusing 
fortune to come here and train the youth of his country in the 
paths of duty, — ^he is ever the same meek, grand, self-sacrificing 
spirit. Here he exhibited qualities not less worthy and heroic 
than those displayed on the broad and open theater of conflict, 
when the eyes of nations watched his every action. Here in the 
calm repose of civil and domestic duties, and in the trying routine 
of incessant tasks, he lived a life as high as When, day by day, 
he marshalled and led his thin and wasting lines, and slept by 
night upon the field that was to be drenched again in blood upon 
the morrow. And now he has vanished from us forever. And 
is this all that is left of him — ^this handful of dust beneath the 
marble stone? No! the ages answer as they rise from the gulfs 
of time, where lie the wrecks of kingdoms and estates, holding 
tip in their hands as their only trophies, the names of those who 
have wrought for man in the love and fear of God, and in love- 
unfearing for their fellow-men. No ! the present answers, bending 
by his tomb. No! the future answers as the breath of the morn- 
ing fans its radiant brow, and its soul drinks in sweet inspirations 
from the lovely life of Lee. No! methinks the very heavens echo, 
as melt into their depths the words of reverent love that voice 
the hearts of men to the tingling stars. 

Come we then to-day in loyal love to sanctify our memories, 
to purify our hopes, to make strong all good intent by communion 
with the spirit of him who, being dead yet speaketh. Come, 


child, in thy spotless innocence; come, woman, in thy purity; 

come, youth, in thy prime; come, manhood, in thy strength; 

come, age, in thy ripe wisdom; come, citizen; come, soldier; let 

us strew the roses and lilies of June around his tomb, for he, like 

them, exhaled in his life Nature's beneficence, and the grave has 

consecrated that life and given it to us all; let us crown his tomb 

with the oak, the emblem of his strength, and with the laurel, 

the emblem of his glory, ahd let these guns, whose voices he 

knew of old, awake the echoes of the mountains, that nature 

herself may join in his solemn requiem. Come, for here he rests, 


On this green bank, by this fair stream. 

We set to-day a votive stone. 

That memory may his deeds redeem. 

When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 

— ^JoHN Warwick Daniel, on the 

unveiling of Lee*s statue at Washington and 

Lee University, Lexington, Viiginia, 1883. 


1. Why should humor find a place in after-dinner 

2. Briefly give your impressions of any notable after- 
dinner address that you have heard. 

3. . Briefly outline an imaginary occasion of any sort 
and give three subjects appropriate for addresses. 

4. Deliver one such address, not to exceed ten minutes 
in length. 

5. What proportion of emotional ideas do you find in 
the extracts given in this chapter? 

6. Humor was used in some of the foregoing addresses 
— in which others would it have been inappropriate? 

7. Prepare and deliver an after-dinner speech suited 


to one of the following occasions, and be sure to use humor : 
A lodge banquet. 
A political party dinner. 
A church men's club dinner. 
A dvic association banquet. 
A banquet in honor of a celebrity. 
A woman's club annual dinner. 
A business men's association dinner. 
A manufacturers' club dinner. 
An alumni banquet. 
An old home week barbecue. 



In conversation avoid the extremes of forwardness and reserve. 

— Cato. 

Conversation is the laboratory and workshop of the student. 

— ^Emerson, Essays: Cirdes. 

The father of W. E. Gladstone considered conversation 
to be both an art and an accomplishment. Around the 
dinner table in his home some topic of local or national 
interest, or some debated question, was constantly being 
discussed. In this way a friendly rivalry for supremacy 
in conversation arose among the family, and an incident 
observed in the street, an idea gleaned from a book, a 
deduction from personal experience, was carefully stored 
as material for the family exchange. Thus his early years 
of practise in elegant conversation prepared the younger 
Gladstone for his career as a leader and speaker. 

There is a sense in which the ability to converse effec- 
tively is efficient public speaking, for our conversation is 
often heard by many, and occasionally decisions of great 
moment hinge upon the tone and quality of what we say 
in private. 

Indeed, conversation in the aggregate probably wields 
more power than press and platform combined. Socrates 
taught his great truths, not from public rostrums, but in 
personal converse. Men made pilgrimages to Goethe's 



library and Coleridge's home to be charmed and instructed 
by their speech, and the culture of many nations was 
immeasurably influenced by the thoughts that streamed 
out from those rich well-springs. 

Most of the world-moving speeches are made in the 
course of conversation. Conferences of diplomats, busi- 
ness-getting arguments, decisions by boards of directors, 
considerations of corporate policy, all of which influence 
the political, mercantile and economic maps of the world, 
are usually the results of careful though informal con- 
versation, and the man whose opinions weigh in such 
crises is he who has first carefully pondered the words 
of both antagonist and protagonist. 

However important it may be to attain self-control 
in light social converse, or about the family table, it is 
undeniably vital to have oneself perfectly in hand while 
taking part in a momentous conference. Then the hints 
that we have given on poise, alertness, precision of word, 
clearness of statement, and force of utterance, with re- 
spect to public speech, are equally applicable to con- 

The form of nervous ^otism — ^for it is both — that 
suddenly ends in flusters just when the vital words need 
to be uttered, is the sign of coming defeat, for a conversa- 
tion is often a contest. If you feel this tendency embarrass- 
ing you, be sure to listen to Holmes's advice: 

And when you stick on conversational burs, 
Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful urs. 

Here bring your will into action, for your trouble is a 


wandering attention. You must force your mind to per- 
sbt along the chosen line of conversation and resolutdy 
refuse to be diverted by any subject or happening that 
may unexpectedly pop up to distract you. To fail here 
is to lose effectiveness utterly. 

Concentration is the keynote of conversational charm 
and efficiency. The haphazard habit of expression that 
uses bird-shot when a bullet is needed insures missing 
the game, for diplomacy of all sorts rests upon the precise 
application of precise words, particularly — if one may 
paraphrase Tallyrand — ^in those crises when language is 
no longer used to conceal thought. 

We may frequently gain new light on old subjects by 
looking at word-derivations. Conversation signifies in 
the original a turn-about exchange of ideas, yet most 
people seem to r^ard it as a monologue. Bronson Alcott 
used to say that many could argue, but few converse. 
The first thing to remember in conversation, then, is that 
listening — ^respectful, S3rmpathetic, alert listening — ^is not 
only due to our fellow converser but due to ourselves. 
Many a reply loses its point because the speaker is so 
much interested in what he is about to say that it is really 
no reply at all but merely an irritating and humiliating 

Self-expression is exhilarating. This explains the 
eternal impulse to decorate totem poles and paint pic- 
tures, write poetiy and expound philosophy. One of the 
chief delights of conversation is the opportunity it affords 
for self-expression. A good conversationalist who mon(^x>- 
Uzes all the conversation, will be voted a bore because 


he denies others the enjoyment of self-expression, bridle 
a mediocre talker who Ustens interestedly may be con- 
sidered a good conversationalist because he permits his 
companions to please themselves through self-expression. 
They are praised who please: they please who listen well. 
The first step in remed3dng habits of confusion in man- 
ner, awkward bearing, vagueness in thought, and lack of 
precision in utterance, is to recognize your faults. If you 
are serenely unconscious of them, no one — ^least of all 
yourself — can help you. But once diagnose your own 
weaknesses, and you can overcome them by doing four 

1. WILL to overcome them, and keep on willing. 

2. Hold yourself in hand by assuring yourself that you 
know precisely what you ought to say. If you cannot do 
that, be quiet until you are clear on this vital point. 

3. Having thus assured yourself, cast out the fear of 
those who listen to you — they are only human and will 
respect your words if you really have something to say 
and say it briefly, simply, and dearly. 

4. Have the courage to study the English language 
until you are master of at least its simpler forms. 

Conversatianal Hints 

Choose some subject that will prove of general interest 
to the whole group. Do not explain the mechanism of a 
gas engine at an afternoon tea or the culture of hollyhocks 
at a stag party. 

It is not considered good taste for a man to bare his 
arm in public and show scars or deformities. It is equally 


bad form for bim to flaunt his own woes, or the defonnity 
of some one else's character. The public demands plays 
and stories that end hi^pily. All the worid is seeing 
happiness. They cannot long be interested in your ills 
and troubles. George Cohan made himself a millionaire 
before he was thirty by writing cheerful plays. One of 
his rules is generally applicable to conversation: "Always 
leave them laughing when you say good bye." 

Dynamite the "I" out of yoiu: conversation. Not one 
man in nine hundred and seven can talk about himself 
without being a bore. The man who can perform that 
feat can achieve marvels without talking about himsdf , 
so the eternal "I" is not permissible even in his talk. 

If you habitually build your conversation around your 
own interests it may prove very tiresome to your listener. 
He may be thinking of bird dogs or dry fly fishing while 
you are discussing the fourth dimension, or the merits of 
a cucumber lotion. The* charming conversationalist is 
prepared to talk in terms of his listener's interest. If 
his listener spends his spare time investigating Guernsey 
cattle or agitating social reforms, the discriminating con- 
versationalist shapes his remarks accordingly. Richard 
Washburn Child says he knows a man of mediocre ability 
who can charm men much abler than himself when he 
discusses electric lighting. This same man probably 
would bore, and be bored, if he were forced to converse 
about music or Madagascar. 

Avoid platitudes and hackneyed phrases. If you 
meet a friend from Keokuk on State Street or on Pike's 
Peak, it is not necessary to observe: ''How small this 


world is after all!" This observation was doubtless made 
prior to the formation of Pike's Peak. ''This old worid 
is getting better every day." ''Farmer's wives do not 
have to work as hard as formerly." "It is not so much 
the high cost of living as the cost of high living." Such 
observations as these ezdte about the same degree of 
admiration as is drawn out by the appearance of a 1903- 
modd touring car. If you have nothing fresh or interest- 
ing you can always remain silent. How would you like 
to read a newspaper that flashed out in bold headlines 
"Nice Weather We Are Having," or daily gave columns 
to the same old material you had been reading week after 


1. Give a short speech describing the conversational 

2. In a few words give yoiu: idea of a charming con- 

3. What qualities of the orator should not be used in 

4. Give a short hiunorous delineation of the conversa- 
tional "orade." 

5. Give an account of your first day at observing con- 
versation around you. 

6. Give an account of one day's eflFort to improve your 
own conversation. 

7. Give a list of subjects you heard discussed during 
any recent period you may select. 

8. What is meant by "dastic touch" in conversation? 


9. Make a list of ''Bromides," as Gdlett Burgess 
caUs those threadbare expressions which ''bore us to ex- 
tinction" — itself a Bromide. 

10. What causes a phrase to become hackneyed? 

11. Define the words, (a) trite; (b) solecism; (c) 
colloquialism; (d) slang; {e) vulgarism; (/) neologisnou 

12. What constitutes pretentious talk? 



Fifty Questions for Debate* 

1. Has Labor Unionism justified its existence? 

2. Should all church printing be brought out under the 
Union Label? 

3. Is the Open Shop a benefit to the community? 

4. Should arbitration of industrial disputes be made 

5. Is Profit-Sharing a solution of the wage problem? 

6. Is a minimum wage law desirable? 

7. Should the eight-hour day be made imiversal in 

8. Should the state compensate those who sustain 
irreparable business loss because of the enactment of 
laws prohibiting the manufacture and sale of intoxi- 
cating drinks? 

9. Should public utilities be owned by the mimicipality? 

10. Should marginal trading in stocks be prohibited? 

11. Should the national government establish a com- 
pulsory system of old-age insurance by taxing the 
incomes of those to be benefited? 

12. Would the triumph of socialistic principles result in 
deadening personal ambition? 

>Tbe publiihen of thii volume will on receipt of requeet enoloetng etamped 
■elf eddreeeed envelope, formurd a deeoriptive list of volumes oonteininc die- 
iMitone of the art of debate, debatable queetione, argumente pro and eon, 00m- 
plete briefe and reference eouroee for debates. 


13. Is the Presidential System a better form of govern- 
ment for the United States than the Pariiamental 

14. Should our Ic^slation be shaped toward the gradual 
abandonment of the protective tariff? 

15. Should the government of the larger cities be vested 
solely in a commission of not more than nine men, 
elected by the voters at large? 

16. Should national banks be permitted to issue, subject 
to tax and government supervision, notes based on 
their general assets? 

17. Should woman be given the ballot on the present 
basis of suffrage for men? 

z8. Should the present basis of suffrage be restricted? 

19. Is the hope of permanent world-peace a delusion? 

20. Should the United States send a diplomatic rq>re- 
sentative to the Vatican? 

21. Should the Powers of the world substitute an inter- 
national police for national standing armies? 

22. Should the United States maintain the Monroe 

23. Should the Recall of Judges be adopted? 

24. Should the Initiative and Referendum be adopted 
as a national principle? 

25. Is it desirable that the national government should 
own all railroads operating in interstate territory? 

26. Is it desirable that the national government should 
own interstate tel^raph and telephone systems? 

27. Is the national prohibition of the liquor traffic an 
economic necessity? 


28. Should the United States anny and navy be greatly 

29. Should the same standards of altruism obtain in the 
relations of nations as in those of individuals? 

30. Should our government be more highly centralized? 

31. Should the United States continue its policy of 
opposing the combination of railroads? 

32. In case of personal injury to a workman arising out 
of his employment, should his employer be liable for 
adequate compensation and be forbidden to set up 
as a defence a plea of contributory n^ligence on 
the part of the workman, or the n^ligence of a 
fellow workman. 

33. Should all corporations doing an interstate business 
be required to take out a Federal license? 

34. Should the amount of prop>erty that can be trans- 
ferred by inheritance be limited by law? 

35. Should equal compensation for equal labor, between 
women and men, imiversally prevail? 

36. Does equal suffrage tend to lessen the interest of 
woman in her home? 

37. Should the United States take advantage of the com- 
mercial and industrial weakness of foreign nations, 
brought about by the war, by trying to wrest from 
them their markets in Central and South America? 

38. Should teachers of small children in the public 
schools be selected from among mothers? 

39. Should football be restricted to collies, for the sake 
of physical safety? 

40. Should collie students who receive compensation 


for playing summer baseball be debarred from ama- 
teur standing? 

41. Should daily school-hours and school vacations both 
be shortened? 

42. Should home-study for pupils in grade schools be 
abolished and longer school-hoius substituted? 

43. Should the honor sj^tem in examinations be adopted 
in public high-schools? 

44. Should all colleges adopt the self-government system 
for its students? 

45. Should collies be classified by national law and 
supervision, and uniform entrance and graduation 
requirements maintained by each coU^e in a 
particular class? 

46. Should ministers be required to spend a term of years 
in some trade, business, or profession, before be- 
coming pastors? 

47. Is the Y. M. C. A. losing its spiritual power? 

48. Is the church losing its hold on thinking people? 

49. Are the people of the United States more devoted to 
religion than ever? 

50. Does the reading of magazines contribute to intel- 
lectual shallowness? 


Thirty Themes for Speeches 
With Source References for Material. 

1. Kinship, a Foundation Stone of Civilization. 
"The State," Woodrow Wilson. 

2. Initiative and Referendum. 

"The Popular Initiative and Referendum," O. M. 


Article in Independent, 53: 2874; article in North 
American Review, 178: 205. 

4. Is Mankind Progressing? 
Book of same title, M. M. Ballou. 

5. Moses the Peerless Leader. 

Lecture by John Lord, in " Beacon Lights of History." 
Note: This set of books contains a vast store of 
material for speeches. 

6. The Spoils System. 

Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Henry van Dyke, reported 
in the New York Tribune, February 25, 1895. 

7. The Negro in Business. 

Part ni. Annual Report of the Secretary of Internal 
Affairs, Pennsylvania, 1912. 

8. Immigration and Degradation. 
"Americans or Aliens?" Howard B. Grose. 

9. What is the Theatre Doing for America? 
"The Drama Today," Charlton Andrews. 

10. Superstition. 

"Curiosities of Popular Custom," William S. Walsh. 


11. The Problem of Old Age. 

"Old Age Deferred," Arnold Loiand. 

12. Who is the Tramp? 
Article in Cenksryf 28: 41. 

13. Two Men Inside. 

"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," R. L. Stevenson. 

14. The Overthrow of Poverty. 

"The Panacea for Poverty," Madison Peters. 

15. Morals and Manners. 

"A Christian's Habits," Robert E. Speer. 

16. Jew and Christian. 

"Jesus the Jew," Harold Weinstock. 

17. Education and the Moving Picture. 

Article by J. Berg Esenwein in "The Theatre of 
Science," Robert Grau. 

18. Books as Food. 

"Books and Reading," R. C. Gage and Alfred 

19. What is a Novel? 

"The Technique of the Novel," Charles F. Home. 

20. Modern Fiction and Modern Life. 
Article in LippincoU^s, October, 1907. 

21. Our Problem in Mexico. 

"The Real Mexico," Hamilton Fyfe. 

22. The Joy of Receiving. 

Article in Woman^s Home Companion, December, 

23. Physical Training vs. College Athletics. 
Article in Literary Digest, November 28, 1914. 

appendices 385 

24. Cheer Up. 

"The Science of Happiness," Jean Finot 

25. The Square Peg in the Round Hole. 

"The Job, the Man, and the Boss," Katherine 
Blackford and Arthur Newcomb. 

26. The Decay of Acting. 

Article in Current Opinion, November, 1914. 

27. The Young Man and the Church. 

"A Young man's Religion," N. McGee Waters. 

28. IimERiTiNG Success 

Article in Current Opinion, November, 1914. 

29. The Indian in Oklahoma. 

Article in Literary Digest, November 28, 1914. 

30. Hate and the Nation. 

Article in Literary Digest, November 14, I9i4« 


Suggestive Subjects for Speeches^ 
With Occasional Hints on Treatment 

z. Movies and Morals. 

2. The Truth about Lying. 

The essence of truth-telling and l3dng. Lies that are 
not so considered. The subtleties of distinctions 
required. Examples of implied and acted lies. 

3. Benefits That Follow Disasters. 

Benefits that have arisen out of floods, fires, earth- 
quakes, wars, etc. 

4. Haste for Leisure. 

How the speed mania is bom of a vain desire to 
enjoy a leisure that never comes or, on the contrary, 
how the seeming haste of the world has given men 
shorter hoiurs of labor and more time for rest, study, 
and pleasure. 

5. St. Paul's Message to New York. 

Truths from the Epistles pertinent to the great cities 
of today. 

6. Education and Crime. 

7. Loss IS the Mother of Gain. 

How many men have been content until, losing all, 
they exerted their best efforts to r^ain success, and 
succeeded more largely than before. 

>It mutt be ramemberad that the phnaiiic of the rabjeot will not 
flttUy MTvo for the title. 

appendices 387 

8. Egoism vs. Egotism. 

9. Blxtnders op Young Fogyism. 

10. The Waste of Middle-Men in Charity Systems. 
The cost of collecting funds for, and administering 
help to, the needy. The weakness of organized 
philanthropy as compared with the giving that 
gives itself. 

11. The Economy op Organized Charity. 
The other side of the picture. 

12. Freedom op the Press. 

The true forces that hurtfully control too many 
newspapers are not those of arbitrary governments 
but the corrupting influences of moneyed and pditi- 
cal interests, fear of the liquor power, and the desire 
to please sensation-loving readers. 

13. Helen Keller: Optimist. 

14. Back to the Farm. 

A study of the reasons underl3dng the movement. 

15. It Was Ever Thus, 

In ridicule of the pessimist who is never surprised 
at seeing failure. 

16. The Vocational High School. 

Value of direct training compared with the policy of 
laying broader foundations for later building. How 
the two theories work out in practise. Each plan 
can be especially applied in cases that seem to need 
q>ecial treatment. 

17. All Kinds op Turning Done Here. 

A humorous Jyet serious, discussion of the flopping, 


i8. The Egoistic Altruist. 

Herbert Spencer's theory as discussed in ''The Data 
of Ethics." 

19. How THE City Menaces the Nation. 
Economic perils in massed population. Show also 
the other side. Signs of the problem's being solved. 

20. The Robust Note in Modern Poetry. 

A comparison of the work of Galsworthy, Masefield 
and Kipling with that of some earlier poets. 

21. The Ideals of SociALisii. 

22. The Future of the Small City. 

How men are coming to see the economic advantages 
of smaller municipalities. 

23. Censorship for the Theatre. 

Its relation to morals and art. Its difficulties and its 

24. For Such a Time as This. 

Mordecai's expression and its application to oppor- 
tunities in modem woman's life. 

25. Is THE Press Venal? 

26. Safety First. 

27. Menes and Extremes. 

28. Rubicons and Pontoons. 

How great men not only made momentous decisions 
but created means to carry them out. A speech full 
of historical examples. 

29. Economy a Revenue. 

30. The Patriotism of Protest against Popular 

31. Savonarola, the Divine Outcast. 

appendices 389 

32. The True Politician. 

Revert to the original meaning of the word. Build 
the speech around one man as the chief example. 

33. Colonels and Shells. 

Leadership and "cannon fodder" — a protest against 
war in its effect on the conmion people. 

34. Why is a Militant? 

A dispassionate examination of the claims of the 
British militant suffragette. 

35. Art and Morals. 

The difference between the nude and the naked in art. 

36. Can my Country be Wrong? 

False patriotism and true, with examples of 
populary-hated patriots. 

37. Government by Party. 

An analysis of our present political system and the 
movement toward reform. 

38. The Effects op Fiction on History. 

39. The Epfects of History on Fiction. 

40. The Influence op War on Literature. 

41. Chinese Gordon. 
A eulogy. 

42. Taxes and Higher Education. 

Should all men be compelled to contribute to the 
support of universities and professional schools? 

43. Prize Cattle vs. Prize Babies. 

Is Eugenics a science? And is it practicable? 

44. Benevolent Autocracy. 

Is a strongly paternal government better for the 
masses than a much larger freedom for the individual? 

390 the art of pubuc speaking 

45. Second-hand Opinions. 

The tendency to swallow reviews instead of forming 
one's own views. 

46. Parentage or Power? 

A study of which form of aristocracy must eventually 
prevail, that of blood or that of talent. 

47. The Blessing of Discontent. 

Based on many examples of what has been accom- 
plished by those who have not "let well-enough 

48. "Corrupt and Contented." 

A study of the relation of the apathetic voter to 
vicious government. 

49. The Moloch of Child-Labor. 

50. Every Man has a Right to Work. 

51. Charity that Fosters Pauperism. 

52. "Not in Our Stars but in Ourselves." 
Destiny vs, choice. 

53. Environment vs. Heredity. 

54. The Bravery of Doubt. 

Doubt not mere unbelief. True grounds for doubt. 
What doubt has led to. Examples. The weakness 
of mere doubt. The attitude of the wholesome 
doubter ifersus that of the wholesale doubter. 

55. The Spirit of Monticello. 

A message from the life of Thomas JefFerson. 

56. Narrowness in Specialism. 

The dangers of specializing without first possessing 
broad knowledge. The eye too dose to one object. 
Balance is a vital prerequisite for spedalizatioii. 

appendices 39z 

57. Responsibility of Labor Unions to the Law. 

58. The Futube of Sottthebn Literatube. 

What conditions in the history, temperament and 
environment of our Southern people indicate a bright 
literary future. 

59. Woman the Hope of Idealism in America. 

60. The Value of Debating Clubs. 
6z. An Army of Thirty Miluons. 

Li praise of the Sunday-school. 

62. The Baby. 

How the ever-new baby holds mankind in unselfish 
courses and saves us all from going lastingly wrong. 

63. Lo, the Poor Capitalist. 
His trials and problems. 

64. Honey and Sting. 

A lesson from the bee. 

65. Ungrateful Republics. 
Examples from history. 

66. "Every Man has ms Price." 

Horace Walpole's C3aucal remark is not true now, 
nor was it true even in his own corrupt era. Of what 
sort are the men who cannot be bought? Examples. 

67. The Scholar in Diploicacy. 
Examples in American life. 

68. Locks and Keys. 

There is a key for every lock. No difficulty so great, 
no truth so obscure, no problem so involved, but 
that there is a key to fit the lock. The search for the 
right key, the struggle to adjust it, the vigilance to 
retain it — ^these are some of the problems of success. 

39^ t^b:^ art of public speaking 

69. Right Makes Might. 

70. Rooming with a Ghost. 

Influence of the woman graduate of fifty years before 
on the college girl who lives in the room once occu- 
pied by the distinguished "old grad." 

71. No Fact is a Single Fact. 

The importance of weighing facts relatively. 

72. Is Classical Education Dead to Rise no More? 

73. Invective Against Nietsche's Philosophy. 

74. Why Have we Bosses? 

A fair-minded examination of the uses and abuses of 
the political "leader." 

75. A Plea por Settlement Work. 

76. Credulity vs. Faith. 

77. What is Humor? 

78. Use and Abuse op the Cartoon. 

79. The Pulpit in Poutics. 

80. Are Colleges Growing too Large? 

81. The Doom op Absolutism. 

82. Shall Woman Help Keep House por Town, City, 
State, and Nation? 

83. The Educational Test por Supprage. 

84. The Property Test por Supprage. 

85. The Menace op the Plutocrat. 

86. The Cost op High Living. 

87. The Cost op Conveniences. 

88. Waste in American Life. 

89. The Eppect op the Photoplay on the "Legiti- 
mate" Theatre. 

90. Room por the Kicker. 

appendices 393 

91. The Need for Trained Diplomats. 

92. The Shadow of the Iron Chancellor. 

93. The Tyrrany of the Crowd. 

94. Is Our Trial by Jury Satisfactory? 

95. The High Cost of Securing Justice. 

96. The Need for Speedier Court Trials. 

97. Triumphs of the American Engineer. 

98. goethals and gorgas. 

99. Public Education Makes Service to the Public 
A Duty. 

100. Man Owes his Life to the Common Good. 

Speeches for Study and Practise 



Delivered in Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, N. Y., October 18, 1914. 

Used by permission. 

Long ago Plato made a distinction between the occasions of 
war and the causes of war. The occasions of war lie upon the 
surface, and are known and read of all men, while the causes of 
war are embedded in racial antap^onisms, in political and eco- 
nomic controversies. Narrative historians portray the occasions 
of war; philosophic historians, the secret and hidden causes. 
Thus the spark of fire that falls is the occasion of an explosion, 
but the cause of the havoc is the relation between charcoal, niter 
and saltpeter. The occasion of the Civil War was the firing upon 
Fort Sumter. The cause was the collision between the ideals of 
the Union presented by Daniel Webster and the secession taught 
by Calhoun. The occasion of the American Revolution was the 
Stamp Tax; the cause was the conviction on the part of our 
forefathers that men who had freedom in worship carried also 
the capacity for self-government. The occasion of the French 
Revolution was the purchase of a diamond necklace for Queen 
Marie Antoinette at a time when the treasuiy was exhausted; 
the cause of the revolution was feudalism, ^fot otherwise, the 
occasion of the great conflict that is now shaking our earth was 
the assassination of an Austrian boy and girl, but the cause is 
embedded in radsd antagonisms and economic competition. 

As for Russia, the cause of the war was her desire to obtain the 
Bosphorus — and an open seaport, which is the prize offered for 
her attack upon Germany. As for Austria, the catise of the war 
is her fear of the growing power of the Balkan States, and the 
progressive slicing away of her territory. As for Prance, the 
cause of the war is the instinct of self-preservation, that resists 
an invading host. As for Germany, the cause is her deep-seated 
conviction that every country has a moral right to the mouth 
of its greatest river; unable to compete with England, bv round- 
about sea routes and a Kiel Canal, she wants to use the route 
that nature digged for her through the mouth of the Rhine. As 
for England, the motherland is fighting to recover her sense 
of security. During the Napoleomc wars the second William 
Pitt explained the quadrupling of the taxes, the increase of the 
navy, and the sending of an English army against Prance, by the 
statement that justification of this proposed war is the " Pieserva- 


tion of England's sense of security." Ten years ago England 
lost her sense of security. Today she is not seeking to preserve, 
but to recover, the lost sense of security. She proposes to do 
this by destroying Germany's ironclads, demobilmng her army, 
wiping out her forts, and the partition of her provinces. The 
occasions of the war vary, with the color of the paper — "white" 
and "gray " and "blue " — ^but the causes of this war are embedded 
in racial antagonisms and economic and political differences. 

Why Little Belgium Has the Center op the Stage 

Tonight our study concerns little Belgium, her people, and 
their part in this conflict. Be the reasons what they may, this 
little Laind stands in the center of the stage and holds the lime- 
light. Once more David, armed with a sling, has gone up against 
t^ GoUaths. It is an amazing spectacle, this, one of the smallest 
of the States, battling with uie largest of the giants! Belgium 
has a standing army of 42,000 men, and Germany, with three 
reserves, perhaps 7,000,000 or 8,000,000. Without waiting for 
any assistance, this little Belgium band went up against 2,000,000. 
It is as if a honey bee had decided to attack an eagle come to 
loot its honeycomb. It is as if an antelope had turned against a 
lion. Belgitmi has but 11,000 square nules of land, less Uian the 
States of Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut. Her 
population is 7,500,000, less than the single State of New York. 
You could put twenty-two Belgiums in our single State of Texas. 
Much of her soil is thin; her handicaps are heavy, but the in- 
dustry of her people has turned the whole land into one vast 
flower and vegetable garden. The soil of Minnesota and the 
Dakotas is new soil, and yet our fanners there average but 
flfteen bushels of wheat to the acre. Belgium's soil has been used 
for centuries, but it averages thirty-seven bushels of wheat to 
the acre. If we grow twenty-four bushels of barley on an acre 
of ground, Belgium grows fifty; she produces 300 bushels of 
potatoes, where the Maine farmer harvests 90 bushels. Bel- 

S 'urn's average population per square mile has risen to 645 people. 
Americans practised intensive farming; if the population of 
Texas were as dense as it is in Belgium — 100,000,000 of the 
United States, Canada and Central AmericsL could all move to 
Texas, while if our entire countiy was as densely populated as 
Belgium's, everybody in the world could live comfortably within 
the limits of our country. 

The Life op the People 

And yet, little Belgium has no gold or silver mines, and all the 
treasures of copper and zinc and lead and anthracite and oil 


have been denied her. The gold is in the heart of her people. 
No other land holds a race more prudent, industrious and thrifty. 
It is a land where everybody works. In the winter when the 
sun does not rise until half past seven, the Belgian cottages have 
lights in their windows at nve, and the people are ready for an 
eleven-hour day. As a rule aU children work after 12 years of 
age. The exquisite pointed lace that has made Belgium famous, 
is wrought by women who fulfill the tasks of the household ful- 
filled by American women, and then begins their task upon the 
exquisite laces that have sent their name and fame throughout 
the world. Their wages are low, their work hard, but their life 
is so peaceful and prosperous that few Belgians ever emigrate 
to foreign countries. Of late they have made their education 
compulsory, their schools free. It is doubtful whether any other 
country has made a greater success of their system of transporta- 
tion. You will pay 50 cents to journey some twenty odd miles 
out to Roslyn, on our Long Island railroad, but in Belgium a 
commuter journeys twenty miles in to the factory and back again 
every night and makes the six double daily journeys at an entire 
cost of 37^ cents per week, less than the amount that you pay 
for the journey one way for a like distance in this country. Out 
of this has come Belgium's prosperity. She has the money to 
buy goods from other countries, and she has the property to 
export to foreign lands. Last year the United States, with its 
hundred millions of people, imported less than $2,000,000,000, 
and exported $2,500,000,000. Ii our people had been as prosper- 
ous per capita as Belgium, we would have purchased from other 
countries $12,000,0&),000 worth of goods and exported 

So largely have we been dependent upon Belgium that many 
of the engines used in digging the Panama Canal came from the 
CockeriU works that produce two thousands of these engines 
every year in Liege. It is often said that the Belgians have the 
best courts in existence. The Supreme Court of Little Belgium 
has but one Justice. Without waiting for an appeal, just as soon 
as a decision has been reached by a lower Court, while the matters 
are still fresh in mind and all the witnesses and facts readily 
obtainable, this Supreme Justice reviews all the objections raised 
on either side and without a motion from anyone passes on the 
decision of the inferior court. On the other hand, the lower 
courts are open to an immediate settlement of disputes between 
the wa^e earners, and newsboys and fishermen are almost daily 
seen gomg to the judge for a decision regarding a dispute over 
five or ten cents. "V^en the judge has cross-questioned both 
sides, without the presence of attorneys, or the necessity of serv- 
ing a process, or raising a dollar and a quarter, as here, the poorest 
of the poor have their wrongs righted. It is said that not one 
decision out of one htmdred is appealed, thus calling for the 
existence of an attorney. 


To all other institutions organized in the interest of the wage 
earner has been added the national savings bank system, that 
makes loans to men of small means, that enables the farmer and 
the working man to buy a little garden and build a house, while 
at the same time insuring the working man against accident and 
sickness. Belgium is a poor man's country, it has been said, 
because institutions have been administered in the interest of the 
men of small affairs. 

The Great Belgium Plain in History 

But the institutions of Belgium and the industrial prosperity 
of her people alone are not equal to the explanation of her unique 
heroism. Long ago, in his Commentaries, Julius Caesar said that 
Gaul was inhabited by three tribes, the Belgse, the Aquitani, 
the Celts, "of whom the Belgs were the bravest." History will 
show that Belgians have courage as their native right, for only 
the brave could have survived. The southeastern part of Belgium 
is a series of rock plains, and if these plains have been her good 
forttme in times of peace, they have furnished the battlefields of 
Western Europe for two thousand years. Northern France and 
Western Germany are rough, jagged and wooded, but the 
Belgian plains were ideal battlefields. For this reason the gen- 
erals of Germany and of France have usually met and struggled 
for the mastery on these wide Belgian plains. On one of these 
grotmds Julius Caesar won the first battle that is recorded. Then 
came King Clovis and the French, with their campaigns; toward 
these plains also the Saracens were hunying when assaulted by 
Charles Martel. On the Belgian plains the Dutch burghers and 
the Spanish armies, led by Bloody Alva, fought out their battle. 
Hither, too, came Napoleon, and the great mound of Waterloo 
is the monument to the Duke of Wellington's victory. It was 
to the Belgian plains, also, that the German general, laist August, 
rushed his troops. Every college and every city searches for 
some level spot of land where the contest between opposing 
teams may be held, and for more than two thousand years the 
Belgian plain has been the scene of the great battles between the 
warring nations of Western Europe. 

Now, out of all these collisions there has come a hardy race, 
inured to peril, rich in fortitude, loyalty, patience, thrift, self- 
reliance and persevering faith. For five htmdred years the Belgian 
children and youth have been brought tip upon the deeds of noble 
renown, achieved by their ancestors. If Julius Caesar were here 
today he would wear Belgiimi's bravery like a bright sword, girded 
to his thigh. And when this brave little people, with a standing 
army of forty-two thousand men, single-handed defied two 
miUions of Germans, it tells us that Ajax has come back once 
more to defy the god of lightnings. 


A Thrilling Chapter from Belgium's History 

Perhaps one or two chapters torn from the pages of Belgium's 
history will enable us to understand her present-day heroism, 
just as one golden bough plucked from the forest wiU explain 
the richness of the autumn. You remember that Venice was 
once the financial center of the world. Then when the bankers 
lost confidence in the navy of Venice they put their jewcds and 
gold into saddle bags and moved the financial center of the world 
to Nuremburg, because its walls were seven feet thidc and twenty 
feet high. Later, about 1500 A. D., the discovery of the New 
World turned all the peoples into races of sea-going folk, and the 
English and Dutch captains vied with the sailors of Spain and 
Portugal. No captains were more prosperous than the mariners 
of Antwerp. In 1568 there were 500 marble mansions in this 
dty on the Meuse. Belgium became a casket filled with jewels. 
Then it was that Spain turned covetous eyes northward. Sated 
with his pleasures, broken by indulgence and passion, the Em- 
peror Charles the Fifth resigned his gold and throne to his son, 
Kine Philip. Pindine his coders depleted, Philip sent the Duke 
of Alva, with 10,000 Spanish soldiers, out on a looting expedition. 
Their approach filled Antwerp with consternation, for her 
merchants were busy with commerce and not with war. The 
sack of Antwerp by the Spaniards makes up a revolting page in 
history. Within three days 8,000 men, women and chiloren were 
massacred, and the Spanish soldiers, drunk with wine and blood, 
hacked, drowned ana burned like fiends that they were. The 
Belgian historian tells us that 500 marble residences were reduced 
to blackened ruins. One incident will make the event stand out. 
When the Spaniards approached the dty a wealthy burgher 
hastened the day of his son's marriage. During the ceremony 
the soldiers, broke down the gate of the dty and crossed the 
threshold of the rich man's house. When they had stripped the 

gaests of their purses and gems, unsatisfied, they kmed the 
ridegroom, slew the men, and carried the bride out into the night. 
The next morning a youn^ woman, crazed and half dad, was 
found in the street, searching among the dead bodies. At last 
she found a youth, whose h^ul she lifted upon her knees, Ofver 
which she crooned her songs, as a youn£ mother soothes her babe. 
A Spanish officer passing by, humiUated by the spectade, ordered 
a soldier to use his dagger and put the girl out of her misery. 

Thb Horrors op the Inquisition 

Having looted Antwerp, the treasure chest of Belgium, the 
Spaniards set up the Inquisition as an organized means ci securing 
property. It is a strange fact that the Spaniard has excelled in 
cruelty as other nations have excelled in art or sdence or inven- 
tion. Spain's cruelty to the Moors and the rich Jews forms one 
of the blackest chapters in history. Inquisitors became fiends. 


Moors were starved, tortured, btimed, flung in wells, Jewish bankers 
had their tongues thrust through little iron rings; then the end 
of the tongue was seared that it might swell, and the banker was 
led by a string in the ring through the streets of the city. The 
women and the children were put on rafts that were pu^ed out 
into the Mediterranean Sea. When the swollen corpses drifted 
ashore, the plague broke out, and when that black plague spread 
over Spain it seemed like the justice of outraged nattire. The 
expulsion of the Moors was one of the deadliest blows ever struck 
at science, commerce, art and literature. The historian tracks 
Spain across the continents by a trail of blood. Wherever Spain's 
hand has fallen it has paralyzed. From the days of dortez, 
wherever her captains have given a pledge, the tongue that spake 
has been mildewed "with lies and treachery. The wildest beasts 
are not in the jungle; man is the lion that rends, man is the 
leopard that tears, man's hate is the serpent that poisons, and 
the Spaniard entered Belgium to turn a garden into a wilderness. 
Withm one year, 1568, Antweip, that bqgan ¥7ith 125,000 people, 
ended it ¥7ith 50,000. Many multitudes were put to death bv 
the sword and staJce, but many, many thousands fled to England, 
to begin anew their lives as manufacturers and mariners; and 
for years Belgium was one quaking peril, an inferno, whose 
torturers were Spaniards. The visitor m Antwerp is still shown 
the rack upon which the^ stretched the merchants that they 
might vidd up their hidden gold. The Painted Lady may be 
seen. Opening her arms, she embraces the victim. The Spaniard, 
with his spear, forced the merchant into the deadly embrace. 
As the iron arms concealed in velvet folded together, one spike 
passed through each eye, another through the mouth, another 
through the heart. The Painted Lady's lips were poisoned, so 
that a kiss was fataL The dungeon whose sides were forced 
together by screws, so that each day the victim saw his cell 
growing less and less, and knew that soon he would be crushed to 
death, was another instrument of torture. Literally thousands of 
innocent men and women were burned alive in the market place. 

There is no more piteous tragedy in history than the story 
of the decline and ruin of this superbly prosperous, literary and 
artistic country, and yet out ot the a&es came new courage. 
Burned, broken, the Belgians and the Dutch were not beaten. 
Pushed at last into Holland, where they united their fortunes 
with the Dutch, they cut the dykes of Holland, and let in the 
ocean, and clinging to the dykes with their finger tips, fought 
their way back to the land; but no sooner had the last of the 
Spaniards gone than out of their rags and poverty they founded 
a university as a monument to the providence of God m deliver- 
ing them out of the hands of their enemies. For, the Sixteenth 
Ceatury, in the form of a brave knight, wears little Belgium and 
Holland like a red rose upon his heart. 


The Death op Egmont 

But some of you will say that the Belgian people must have 
been rebels and guilty of some exoess, and that had they remained 
quiescent, and not fomented treason, that no such fate could 
have overtaken them at the hands of Spain. Very well. I will 
take a youth who, at the beginning, believed in Charles the Fifth, 
a man who was as true to his id^ds as the needle to the pole. 
One day the "Bloody Council" decreed the death of Egmont 
and Horn. Immediately afterward, the Duke of Alva sent an 
invitation to Egmont to be the guest of honor at a banquet in 
his own house. A servant from the [>alace that night delivered 
to the Count a slip of paper, containing a warning to take the 
fleetest horse and nee the city, and from that moment not to eat 
or sleep without pistols at his hand. To all this Egmont re- 
spond^ that no monster ever lived who could, with an mvitaticm 
of hospitality, trick a patriot. Like a brave man, the Count 
went to the Duke's palace. He found the guests assembled, but 
when he had handed his hat and cloak to the servant, Alva gave 
a sign, and from behind the curtains came Spanish musqueteers, 
who demanded his sword. For instead of a banquet hall, the 
Cotmt was taken to a cellar, fitted up as a dungeon. Already 
Egmont had all but died for his country. He had used his ships, 
his trade, his gold, for righting the people's wrongs. He was a 
man of a large family — a wife and eleven children — and people 
loved him as to idolatry. But Alva was inexorable. He had 
made up his mind that the merchants and burghers had still 
much hidden gold, and if he killed their bravest and best, terror 
would fall upon all alike, and that the gold he needed would be 
forthcoming. That all the people might witness the scene, he 
took his prisoners to Brussels and decided to behead them in the 
public square. In the evening Egmont received the notice that 
nis head would be chopped off the next day. A scaffold was 
erected in the public square. That evening he wrote a letter 
that is a marvel of restraint. 

"Sire — I have learned this evening the sentence which your 
majesty has been pleased to pronotmce upon me. Although I 
have never had a thought, and believe myself never to have done a 
deed, which wotdd tend to the prejudice of your service, or to the 
detriment of true religion, nevertheless I take patience to bear 
that which it has pleased the good God to permit. Therefore, I 
pray your majesty to have compassion on my poor wife, my 
children and my servants, having regard to my past service. In 
which hope I now commend myself to the mercy of God. Prom 
Brussels, ready to die, this 5th of June, 1568. 

"Lamoral D' Egmont." 

Thus died a man who did as much probably for Holland as 
John Eliot for' England, or Layette for Prance, or Samud 
Adams for this young republic* 

appendices 4oz 

The Woe of Belgium 

And now out of all this glorious past comes the woe of Belgium. 
Desolation has come like the whirlwind, and destruction like a 
tornado. But ninety days ago and Belgium was a hive of in- 
dustry, and in the fields were heard the h^^est songs. Suddenly, 
Germany struck Belgium. The whole world has but one voice, 
"Belgium has innocent hands." She was led like a lamb to the 
slaughter. When the lover of Germany is asked to explain 
Germany's breaking of her solemn treaty upon the neutrality of 
Belgium, the German stands dumb and speechless. Merchants 
honor their written obligations. True citizens consider their 
word as good as their bond; Germanv gave treaty, and in the 
presence of God and the civilized world, entered into a solemn 
covenant with Belgium. To the end of time, the German must 
expect this taunt, "as worthless as a German treaty." Scarcely 
less black the two or three known examples of cruelty wrought 
upon nonresisting Belgians. In Brooklyn lives a Belgian woman. 
She planned to return home in late July to visit a father who had 
suffered paralysis, an aged mother and a sister who nursed both. 
When the Germans decided to bum that village in Eastern 
Belgium, they did not wish to bum alive this old and helpless 
man, so they bayonetted to death the old man and woman, and 
tiie daughter that nursed them. 

Let us judge not, that we be not judged. This is the one 
example of atrocitv that you and I might be able personally to 
prove. But every loyal Gemian in the country can make answer: 
These soldiers were drunk with wine and blood. Such an 
atrocity misrepresents Germany and her soldiers. The breaking 
of Germany's treaty with Belgium represents the di^onor of a 
military ring, and not the perfidy of 68,000,000 of people. We 
ask that judgment be postponed until all the facts are in." But, 
meanwhile, the man who loves his fellows, at midnight in his 
dreams walks across the fields of broken Belgitun. ML through 
the night air there comes the sob of Rachel, weeping for her 
children, because they are not. In moods of bitterness, of doubt 
and despair the heart cries out, "How could a just God permit 
such cruelty upon innocent Belgium ? " No man knows. * * Ulouds 
and darkness are round about God's throne." The spirit of evil 
caused this war, but the Spirit of God may bring gocxi out of it, 
just as the summer can repair the ravages of winter. Meanwhile 
the heart bleeds for Belgitun. For Brussels, the third most 
beautiful city in Europe! For Louvain, once rich with its libra- 
ries, cathedrals, statues, paintings, missals, manuscripts — now a 
ruin. Alas! for the ruined harvests and the smoking villages! 
Alas, for the Cathedral that is a heap, and the library that is a 
ruin. Where the angel of happiness was there stalk Famine 
and Death. Gone, the Land of urotius! Perished the paintings 
of Rubens! Ruined is Louvain. Where the wheat waved, now 


the hillsides are billowy with graves. But let us believe that 
God reigns. Perchanoe Belgium is slain like the Saviour, that 
militarism may die like Satan. Without shedding of innocent 
blood there is no remission of sins through tyraimy and greed. 
There is no wine without the crushing m. the gnapes from the 
tree of life. Soon Libertv, God's dear child, wul stand ¥7ithin 
the scene and comfort the desolate. Palling upon the great 
world's altar stairs, in this hour when wisdom is ignorance, and 
the strongest man clutches at dust and straw, let us believe with 
faith victorious over tears, that some time God will gather 
broken-hearted little Belgium into His arms and comfort her as 
a Father comforteth his well-beloved child. 



Eight years a^o tonight, there stood where I am standing now 
a ^otmg Georgian, who, not ¥7ithout reason, recognized the 
"significance" of his presence here, and, in words whose cdo- 
quence I cannot hope to recall, appealed from the New South 
to New England for a united cotmtr^. 

He is gone now. But, short as his life was, its heaven-bom 
mission was fulfilled; the dream of his childhood was realized; 
for he had been appointed by God to carry a message of peace 
on earth, good will to men, and, this done, he vanishol from the 
sight of mortal eyes, even as the dove from the ark. 

Grady told us, and told us truly, of that typical American 
who, in Dr. Talmage's mind's eye, was coming, but who, in 
Abraham Lincoln's actuality, had alreadv come. In some recent 
studies into the career of that man, I nave encountered many 
startling confirmations of this judgment; and from that rugged 
trunk, drawing its sustenance from gnarled roots, interlocked 
with Cavalier sprays and Puritan branches deep beneath the 
soil, shall spring, is springing, a shapelv tree — symmetric in all 
its parts — under whose sheltering boughs this nation shall have 
the new birth of freedom Lincoln promised it, and mankind the 
refuge which was sought by the forefathers when they fled from 
oppression. Thank (kkI, the ax, the gibbet, and the stake have 
had their day. They have gone, let us hope, to keep company 
with the lost arts. It has been demonstrated that great wrongs 
may be redressed and great reforms be achieved without the 
shedding of one drop of human blood; that vengeance does not 
purify, out brutalizes; and that tolerance, which in private 
transactions is reckoned a virtue, becomes in public affairs a 
dogma of the most far-seeing statesmanship. 


So I appeal from the men in silken hose who danced to 
music made by slaves — and called it freedom — from the men in 
bell-crowned hats, who led Hester Prynne to her shame — and 
called it religion — ^to that Americanism which reaches forth its 
arms to smite wrong with reason and truth, secure in the power 
of both. I appeal from the patriarchs of New England to the 
poets of New England; from Endicott to Lowell; fromWinthrop 
to Longfellow; from Norton to Holmes; and I app^ in the 
name and b^ the rights of that common citizenship — of that 
common origin — ^back of both the Puritan and the Cavalier — ^to 
which all of us owe our being. Let the dead past, consecrated 
by the blood of its martyrs, not by its savage hatreds— darkened 
alike by kingcraft and priestcraft — ^let the dead past bury its 
dead. Let the present and the future ring with the song of the 
singers. Blessed be the lessons they teach, the laws they make. 
Blessed be the eye to see, the light to reveal. Blessed be Toler- 
ance, sitting ever on the right h^d of God to guide the way with 
loving word, as blessed be all that brings us nearer the goal of 
true religion, true Republicanism, and true patriotism, (Sstrust 
of watchwords and labels, shams and heroes, belief in our country 
and ourselves. It was not Cotton Mather, but John Greenleaf 
Whittier, who cried. — 

'* Dear God and Father of us all, 
Forgive our faith in cruel lies, 
Forgive the blindness that denies. 

"Cast down our idols — overturn 
Our bloody altars-^make us see 
Thyself in Thy humanity!" 

pounder's day address 


Carnegie Institute, Pittsbui|:h, Pa., November 3, 1904. 
What is so hard as a just estimate of the events of our own 
time? It is only now, a century and a half later, that we really 
perceive that a writer has something to sa^ for himself when he 
calls Wolfe's exploit at Quebec the turning point in modem 
history. And to-day it is nard to imagine any rational standard 
that would not make the American Revolution — an insurrection 
of thirteen little colonies, with a poptdation of 3,000,000 scattered 
in a distant wilderness among savages — a mightier event in many 
of its aspects than the volcanic convulsion in Prance. Again, 
the upbuilding of your great West on this continent is redconed 


by some the most important woild movement of the last hundred 
years. But is it more important than the amazing, imposing, 
and perhaps disquieting apparition of Japan? One authority 
insists that when Russia descended into the Par East and pushed 
her frontier on the Pacific to the forty-third degree of latitude, 
that was one of the most far-reaching facts of modem history, 
tho it almost escaped the eyes of Europe — all her perceptions 
then monopolized by affairs in the Levant. Who can say? 
Many courses of the sun were needed before men could take the 
full historic measures of Luther, Calvin, Knox; the measure of 
Loyola, the Council of Trent, and all the cotmter-reformation. 
The center of gravity is forever shifting, the political axis of the 
world perpetu^y changing. But we are now far enough off to 
discern how stupendous a thing was done when, after two cycles 
of bitter war, one foreign, the other civil and intestine, Pitt and 
Washington, within a span of less than a score of years, planted 
the foundations of the American Republic. 

What Porbes's stockade at Port Pitt has grown to be you know 
better than I. The huge triumphs of Pittsburg in material pro- 
duction — iron, steel, coke, glass, and all the rest of it — can only 
be told in colossal figures that are almost as hard to realize in 
our minds as the figures of astronomical distance or geologic 
time. It is not quite clear that all the founders of the Common- 
wealth would have surveyed the wonderful scene with the same 
exultation as their descendants. Some of them would have 
denied that these great centers of industrial democracy either 
in the Old World or in the New always stand for progress. 
Jefferson said, " I view great cities as pestilential to the morals, 
the health, and the liberties of man. I consider the class of 
artificers," he went on, "as the panders of vice, and the instru- 
ment by which the liberties of a coimtry are generally over- 
thrown." In England they reckon 70 per cent, of our popula- 
tion as dwellers in towns. With you, I read that only 25 per 
cent, of the population live in groups so large as 4,000 persons. 
If Jefferson was right our outlook would be dark. Let us hope 
that he was wrone, and in fact toward the end of his time qualified 
his early view. Franklin, at any rate, would, I feel sure, have 
revded in it all. 

That great man — a name in the forefront among the practical 
intelligences of human history — once told a friend that when he 
dwelt upon the rapid progress that mankind was making in 
politics, morals, and the arts of living, and when he considered 
that each one improvement always begets another, he felt assured 
that the future progress of the race was likely to be quicker than 
it had ever been. He was never wearied of foretelling inventions 
yet to come, and he wished he could revisit the earth at t^e end 
of a century to see how mankind was getting on. With aU my 
heart I share his wish. Of all the men who have built up great 


States, I do believe there is not one whose alacrity of sound sense 
and single-e^ed beneficence of aim could be more safely trusted 
than Pranklm to draw light from the clouds and pierce the eco- 
nomic and political confusions of our time. We can imag^e 
the amazement and complacency of that shrewd benignant mind 
if he could watch all the giant marvels of your mills and furnaces, 
and all the apparatus devised by the wondrous inventive faculties 
of man; if he could have foreseen that his experiments with the 
kite in his garden at Philadelphia, his tubes, his Leyden jars 
would end m the electric appliances of to-day — the largest 
electric plant in all the world on the site of Port Duquesne; if 
he could have heard of 5,000,000,000 of passengers carried in 
the United States by electric motor power m a year; if he could 
have realized all the rest of the magician's tale of our time. 

Still more would he have been astounded and elated could he 
have foreseen, bevond all advances in material production, the 
unbroken strength of that political structure which he had so 
grand a share in rearing, into this veir region where we are 
this afternoon, swept wave after wave of immigration; English 
from Virginia flowed over the border, bringing English traits, 
literature, habits of mind; Scots, or Scoto-Irish, origmally from 
Ulster, flowed in from Central Pennsylvania; Catholics from 
Southern Ireland; new hosts from Southern and East Central 
Europe. This is not the Pourth of July. But people of every 
school would agree that it is no exuberance of rhetoric, it is only 
sober truth to say that the persevering absorption and incor- 
poration of all this ceaseless torrent of heterogenous elements 
mto one united, stable, industrious, and pacific State is an 
achievement that neither the Roman Empire nor the Roman 
Church, neither Byzantine Empire nor Russian, not Charles the 
Great nor Charles the Fifth nor Napoleon ever rivaled or ap- 

We are usually apt to excuse the slower rate of liberal progress 
in our Old World by contrasting the obstructive barriers of 
prejudice, survive, solecism, anachronism, convention, institu- 
tion, all so obstinately rooted, even when the branches seem bare 
and broken, in an old world, with the open and disengaged ground 
of the new. Yet in fact your difficulties were at least as formida- 
ble as those of the older civilizations into whose fruitful heritage 
you have entered. Unique was the necessity of this gigantic 
task of incorporation, the assimilation of people of divers faiths 
and race. A second difficulty was more formidable still — ^how to 
erect and work a powerful and wealthy State on such a system as 
to combine the centralized concert of a federal system with local 
independence, and to unite collective energy with the encourage- 
ment of individual freedom. 

This last difficulty that you have so successfully up to now 
surmounted, at the present hour confronts the mother country 


and deeply perplexes her statesmen. Liberty and union have 
been callea the twin ideas of America. So, too, they are the 
twin ideals of all responsible men in Great Britain; altho re^x>nsi- 
ble men difEer among themselves as to the safest path on which 
to travel toward the common goal, and tho the dividing ocean, 
in other ways so much our friend, interposes, for our case of an 
island State, or rather for a group of island States, obstacles from 
which a continental State like yours is happily altogether free. 

Nobody believes that no difficulties remam. Some of them are 
obvious. But the common-sense, the mixture of patience and 
determination that has conquered risks and mischiefs in the 
past, may be trusted with the future. 

Strange and devious are the paths of history. Broad and 
shining channels eet mysteriously dlted up. How many a time 
what seemed a glorious high road proves no more than a mule 
track or mere oil-de-sac. Think of Canning's flashing boast, 
when he insisted on the recognition of the Spanish republics in 
South America — that he had called a new world into existence 
to redress the balance of the old. This is one of the sayings — of 
which sort many another might be found — ^that make the fortune 
of a rhetorician, yet stand m the wear and tear of time and cir- 
cumstance. The new world that Canning called into existence 
has so far turned out a scene of singular dSenchantment. 

Tho not without glimpses on occasion of that heroism and 
courage and even wi^om that are the attributes of man almost 
at the worst, the tale has been too much a tale of anarchy and 
disaster, still leaving a host of perplexities for statesmen both in 
America and Europe. It has left aiso to students of a philosophic 
turn of mind one of the most interesting of all the problems to be 
found in the whole field of social, ecclesiastical, religious, and 
racial movement. Why is it that we do not find in the south as 
we find in the north of this hemisphere a powerful federation — a 
great Spanish-American people stretching from the Rio Grande 
to Cape Horn? To answer that question would be to shed a 
flood of light upon many deep historic forces in the Old Worid, 
of which, after all, these movements of the New are but a pro- 
longation and more manifest extension. 

What more imposing phenomenon does history present to us 
than the rise of Spanish power to the pinnacle of greatness and 
glory in the sixteenth century? The Mohanmiedans, after cen- 
turies of fierce and stubborn war, driven back; the whole penin- 
sula brought under a single rule with a single creed; enormous 
acquisitions from the Netherlands of Naples, Sicily, the Canaries; 
France humbled, England menaced, settlements made in Asia 
and Northern Africa — Spain in America become possessed of a 
vast continent and of more than one ardiipelago of splendid 
islands. Yet before a century was over the sovereign majesty 
of Spain underwent a huge declension, the territory under her 


sway was contracted, the fabulous wealth of the mines of the 
New World had been wasted, agriculture and industry were 
ruined, her commerce passed into tiie hands of her rivals. 

Let me di^p'ess one further moment. We have a very sensible 
habit in the island whence I come, when our country misses fire, 
to say as little as we can, and sink the thing in patriotic oblivion. 
It is rather startling to recall that less thsm a century ago Eng- 
land twice sent a nSlitary force to seize what is now Argentina. 
Pride of race and hostile creed vehemently resisting, proved too 
much for us. The two expeditions ended in failure, and nothing 
remains for the historian of to-day but to wonder what a differ- 
ence it might have made to the temperate region of South 
America if the fortune of war had gone the other way, if the 
region of the Plata had become British, and a large British immi- 
gration had followed. Do not think me guil^ of the heinous 
crime of forgetting the Monroe Doctrine. That momentous 
declaration was not made for a good many years after our Gen. 
Whitelocke was repulsed at Buenos Ayres, tho Mr. Sumner and 
other people have always held that it was Canning who reaUy 
first started the Monroe Doctrine, when he invited the United 
States to join him against European intervention in South 
American affairs. 

The day is at hand, we are told, when four-fifths of the human 
race will trace their pedigree to English forefathers, as four- 
fifths of the white people in the United States trace their pedigree 
to-day. By the end of this centtiry, they say, such nations as 
France and Germany, assuming that they stand apart from 
fresh consolidations, will only be able to claim the same relative 
position in the political world as Holland and Switzerland. These 
musings of the moon do not take us far. The important thing, 
as we all know, is not the exact fraction of the human race that 
will speak English. The important thing is that those who speak 
English, whetiber in old lands or new, shall strive in lofty, gen- 
erous and never-ceasing emulation with peoples of other tongues 
and other stock for the political, social, and intellectual primacy 
among mankind. In this noble strife for the service of our race 
we n^d never fear that claimants for the prize will be too large 
a multitude. 

As an able scholar of your own has said, Jefferson was here 

using the old vernacular of English aspirations after a free, 
mamv, and well-ordered political life — a vernacular rich in 
stately tradition and noble phrase, to be found in a score of a 

thousand of champions in many camps — in Buchanan, Milton, 
Hooker, Locke, feremy Taylor, Roger Williams, and many 
another humbler but not less strenuous pioneer and confessor of 
freedom. Ah, do not fail to count up, and count np often, what 
a different world it would have been but for that island in the 
distant northern sea! These were the tributary fountains, that, 


as time went on, swelled into the broad confluence of modem 
time. What was new in 1776 was the transfonnation of thought 
into actual polity. 

What is progress? It is best to be slow in the complex arts of 
politics in their widest sense, and not to hurry to defuae. If you 
want a platitude, there is nothing for supplying it like a defini- 
tion. Or shall we say that most definitions hang between plati- 
tude and paradox? There are said, tho I have never counted, to 
be 10,000 definitions of religion. There must be about as many 
of poetry. There can haiSly be fewer of liberty, or even df 

I am not bold enough to try a definition. I will not try to 
gauge how far the advance of moral forces has kept pace with 
that extension of material forces in the world of which this con- 
tinent, con^icuous before all others, bears such astounding 
evidence. Ijiis, of course, is the question of ouestions, because 
as an illustrious English writer — ^to whom, by the way, I owe my 
friendship with your founder man^ long years ago— as Matthew 
Arnold said in America here, it is moral ideas that at bottom 
decide the standing or falling of states and nations. Without 
opening this vast discussion at large, many a sign of progress is 
beyond mistake. The practise of associated action — one of the 
master keys of progress — ^is a new force in a hundred fields, and 
with immeasurable diversity of forms. There is less acquiescence 
in triumphant wrong. Toleration in religion has been called 
ti^e best fruit of the last four centuries, and in spite of a few 
bigoted survivals, even in our United Kingdom, and some savage 
outbreaks of hatred, half religious, half racial, on the Continent 
of Europe, this glorious gain of time may now be taken as secured. 
Perhaps of all the contributions of America to human civiliza- 
tion this is greatest. The reign of force is not yet over, and at 
intervals it has its triumphant hours, but reason, justice, hu- 
manity fight with success their long and steady battle for a wider 

Of all the points of social advance, in my country at least, 
during the last generation none is more marked than the change 
in the position of women, in respect of rights of property, of 
education, of access to new callings. As for the improvement of 
material well-being, and its diffusion among those whose labor 
is a prime factor in its creation, we might grow sated with the 
jubilant monotony of its figures, if we did not take good care to 
remember, in the excellent words of the President of Harvard, 
that those gains, like the pro^)erous working of your institu- 
tions and the principles by which they are sustained, are in 
essence moral contributions, "being principles of reason, enter- 
prise, courajg[e, faith, and justice, over passion, selfishness, inert- 
ness, timidity, and distrust." It is the moral impulses that 
matter. Where they are safe, all is safe. 


When this and the like is said, nobody supposes that the last 
word has been spoken as to the condition of the people either in 
America or Europe. Republicanism is not itself a panacea for 
economic difficulties. Of self it can neither stifle nor appease the 
accents of social discontent. So long as it has no root in sur- 
veyed envy, tiiis discontent itself is a token of progress. 

What, cries the skeptic, what has become of all the hopes of 
the time when Prance stood upon the top of golden hoursr Do 
not let us fear the challenge. Much has come of them. And over 
the old hopes time has brought a stratum of new. 

Liberalism is sometimes suspected of bein^ cold to these new 
hopes, and you ma^ often hear it said that Liberalism is already 
superseded by Socialism. That a change is passing over party 
names in Europe is plain, but you may to sure that no change in 
name will extinguish these principles of society which are rooted 
in the nature of things, and are accredited by their success. 
Twice America has saved Liberalism in Great Britain. The War 
for Independence in the eighteenth century was the defeat of 
usurping power no less in England than here. The War for Union 
in the nineteenth century gave the decisive impulse to a critical 
extension of suffrage, and an era of popular reform in the mother 
country. Any miscarriage of democracy here reacts against 
progress in Great Britain. 

If you seek the real meaning of most modem disparagement of 
popular or parliamentary government, it is no more than this, 
that no politics will suffice of themselves to make a nation's souL 
What could be more true? Who sajrs it will? But we may de- 
pend upon it that the soul will be best kept alive in a nation where 
there is the highest proportion of those who, in the phrase of 
an old worthy of the seventeenth century, think it a part of a 
man's religion to see to it that his coimtry be well governed. 

Democracy, they tell us, is afflicted by mediocrity and by 
sterility. But has not democracy in my country, as in yours, 
shown before now that it well knows how to choose rulers neither 
mediocre nor sterile; men more than the equals in unselfishness, 
in rectitude, in clear sight, in force, of any absolutist statesman, 
that ever in times past bore the scepter? If I live a few months, 
or it may be even a few weeks longer, I hope to have seen some- 
thing of three elections — one in Canada, one in the United King- 
dom, and the other here. With us, in respect of leadership, and 
apart from height of social prestige, the personage corresponding 
to the president is, as you know, the pnme minister. Our gen- 
eral election this time, owing to personal accident of the passing 
hour, may not determine quite exactly who shall be the prime 
minister, but it will determine the party from which the prime 
minister shall be taken. On normal occasions our election of a 
prime minister is as direct and personal as yours, and in choosing 
a member of Parliament people were really for a whole generation 


choosixig whether Disiaeli or Gladstone or Salisbury should be 
head of the government. 

The one central difEerenoe between 3rour system and ours is 
that the American president is in for a fixed time, whereas the 
British prime minister depends upon the support of the House of 
Commons. If he loses that, his power may not endure a twelve- 
month; if on the other hand, he keeps it, he may hold office for 
a dozen years. There are not many more interesting or impor- 
tant questions in political discussion than the question whether 
our cabinet government or your presidential system of govern- 
ment is the TOtter. This is not the place to aigue it. 

Between 1868 and now — a period of thirty-six years — ^we have 
had eight ministries. This would give an average life of f otir and 
a half years. Of these eight governments five lasted over five 
vears. Broadly speaking, then, our executive governments have 
lasted about tiie length of your fixed term. As for ministers 
swept away by a gust of passion, I can only recall the overthrow 
of Lord Palmerston in 1858 for being thought too subservient 
to Prance. For my own part, I have always thought that by its 
free play, its comparative fluidity, its rapid flexibiUty of adapta- 
tion, our cabinet S3rstem has most to say for itself. 

Whether democracy will make for peace, we all have yet to see. 
So far democracy has done little in Europe to protect us against 
the turbid whirlpools of a military age. When the evils of rival 
states, antagonistic races, territorial claims, and all the other 
formulae of mtemational conflict are felt to be unbearable and 
the curse becomes too ^^reat to be any longer borne, a school of 
teachers will ^rhaps arise to pick up again the thread of the best 
writers and wisest rulers on the eve of the revolution. Movement 
in this region of human things has not all been pn^essive. If 
we survey the European courts from the end of the Seven Years' 
War down to the French Revolution, we note the marked ^wth 
of a distinctly international and pacific spirit. At no era in the 
world's history can we find so many European statesmen after 
peace and the good government of which peace is the best ally. 
That sentiment came to violent end when N^)oleon arose to 
scouige the world. 




The success of the Abolitionists and their allies, under the 
name of the Republican party, has produced its logical results 
already. They have for long vears been sowing drs^ons' teetii 
and have finally got a crop oi armed men. The Union, sir, is 
dissolved. That is an accomplished fact in the path of this dis- 


cussion that men may as well heed. One of 3rour confederates 
has ahready wisely, bravely, boldly confronted public danger, 
and she is only ahead of many of her sisters because of her gre&ter 
facility for speedy action. The greater majority of those sister 
States, under like circumstances, consider her cause as their 
cause; and I charge you in their name to-day: "Touch not 
Saguntum."^ It is not only their cause, but it is a cause which 
receives the sympathy and will receive the support of tens and 
hundreds of honest patriot men in the nonslaveholding States, 
who have hitherto maintained constitutional rights, and who 
re^>ect their oaths, abide by compacts, and love justice. 

And while this Congress, this Senate, and this House of Repre- 
sentatives are debatiiu; the constitutionality and the expediency 
of seceding from the Union, and while the p^dious authors ol 
this mischief are showering down denunciations upon a large 
portion of the patriotic men of this country, those brave men are 
coolly and caunly voting what you call revolution — aye, sir, 
doing better than that: arming to defend it. They appeialed to 
the Constitution, they appealed to justice, they appealed to 
fraternity, until the Constitution, justice, and fraternity were 
no longer listened to in the legislative halls of their country, and 
then, sir, they prepared for the arbitrament of the sword; and 
now you see the glittering bayonet, and you hear the tramp of 
armed men from your capitol to the Rio Grande. It is a sight 
that gladdens the eyes and cheers the hearts of other millions 
ready to second them. Inasmuch, sir, as I have labored earnestly, 
honestly, sincerely, with these men to avert this necessity so long 
as I deemed it possible, and inasmuch as I heartily approve their 
present conduct of resistance, I deem it my duty to state their 
case to the Senate, to the country, and to the civilized world. 

Senators, my countrymen have demanded no new government; 
they have demanded no new Constitution. Look to their records 
at home and here from the beginning of this national strife until 
its consummation in the disruption of the empire, and they have 
not demanded a single thing except that you shall abide by the 
Constitution of the United States; that constitutional rights 
shall be respected, and that justice shall be done. Sirs, they have 
stood by your Constitution; they have stood by all its require- 
ments, they have performed all its duties unselfishly, imcalculat- 
ingly, disinterestedly, tmtil a party sprang up in this country 
which endangered their social ^stem — a party which they ar- 
raign, and which they charge before the American people and all 
mankind with having made proclamation of outlawry against 
f otu* thousand millions of their property in the Territories of the 
United States; with having put them under the ban of the empire 

>Sa«untum was a city of Iberia (Spain) in alliance with Rome. Hannibal, 
in qyite of Rome's warnings in 219 B. C, laid siege to and captured it. This 
became the immediate cause of the war which Rome declared against Carthage. 


in all the States in which their institutions exist outside the pro- 
tection of federal laws; with having aided and abetted insur- 
rection from within and invasion from witJiout with the view of 
subvertin|[ those institutions, and desolating their homes and 
their firesides. For these causes they have tcScen up arms. 

I have stated that the discontented States of this Union have 
demanded nothing but clear, distinct, unequivocal, well- 
acknowledged constitutional rights — frights amrmed by the 
highest judicial tribunals of their cotmtry; rights older than the 
Constitution; rights which are planted upon the immutable 
principles of natural justice; rights which have been affirmed by 
the good and the wise of all countries, and of all centuries. We 
demand no power to injure any man. We demand no right to 
injure our confederate States. We demand no right to interfere 
with their institutions, either by word or deed. We have no 
right to disturb their peace, their tranquillity, their security. We 
have demanded of them simply, solely — ^nothing else — ^to give us 
equality f security and tranquUlity, Give us these, and peace 
restores itself. Refuse them, ana take what you can get. 

What do the rebels demand? First, "that the people of the 
United States shall have an equal right to emigrate and settle 
in the present or any future acquired Territories, with whatever 
property they may possess (including slaves), and be securely 
protected in its peaceable enjoyment imtil such Territory may 
oe admitted as a State into the Union, with or without siavery, 
as she may determine, on an equality with all existing States." 
That is our Territorial demand. We have fought for this Terri- 
tory when blood was its price. We have paid for it when gold 
was its price. We have not proposed to exclude you, tho you 
have contributed very little of blood or money. I reier especially 
to New England. We demand only to go into those Territories 
upon terms of equality with you, as equals in this great Confed- 
eracy, to enjoy the common property of the whole Union, and 
receive the protection of the common government, until the 
Territory is capable of coming into the Union as a sovereign 
State, when it may fix its own institutions to suit itself. 

The second proposition is, "that property in slaves shall be 
entitled to the same protection from the government of the United 
States, in all of its departments, everywhere, which the Constitu- 
tion confers the power upon it to extend to any other property, 
provided nothing herein contained shall be construed to limit 
or restrain the right now belonging to every State to prohibit, 
abolish, or establish and protect slavery within its limits." We 
demand of the common government to use its granted powers to 
protect our property as well as yours. For this protection we pay 
as much as you do. This very property is suljject to taxation. 
It has been taxed by you and sold by you for taxes. 

The title to thousands and tens of thousands of slaves is de* 


rived from the United States. We claim that the government, 
while the Constitution recognizes our property for the purposes 
of taxation, shall give it the same protection that it gives yours. 

Ought it not to be so? You say no. Every one of you upon 
the committee said no. Your senators say no. Yotir House of 
Representatives says no. Throughout the length and breadth 
of your conspiracy against the Constitution Siere is but one 
shout of no! This recognition of this right is the price of my 
allegiance. Withhold it, and you do not get my obedience. This 
is the philosophy of the armed men who have sprung up in this 
country. Do you ask me to support a government that will tax 
my property; that will plunder me; that will demand my blood, 
and will not protect me? I would rather see the population of 
my native State laid six feet beneath her sod than they should 
support for one hour such a government. Protection is the price 
of obedience everywhere, in all countries. It is the only thing 
that makes government respectable. Deny it and you can not 
have free subjects or citizens; you may have slaves. 

We demand, in the next place, "that persons committing 
crimes against slave property in one State, and fleeing to another, 
shall be delivered up in the same manner as persons committing 
crimes a^^ainst other property, and that the laws of the State 
from which such persons flee shall be the test of criminality.*' 
That is another one of the demands of an extremist and a rebel. 

But the nonslaveholding States, treacherous to their oaths and 
compacts, have steadily refused, if the criminal only stole a negro 
and that negro was a slave, to deliver him up. It was refused 
twice on the requisition of my own State as long as twenty-two 
years ago. It was refused by Kent and by Fairfield, governors 
of Maine, and representing, I believe, each of the then federal 
parties. We app^ed then to fraternity, but we submitted; and 
this constitutional right has been practically a dead letter from 
that day to this. The next case came up between us and the 
State of New York, when the present senior senator [Mr. Seward] 
was the governor of that State; and he refused it. Why? He 
said it was not against the laws of New York to steal a negro, and 
therefore he would not comply with the demand. He made a 
similar refusal to Virginia. Yet these are our confederates; 
these are our sister States! There is the bargain; there is the 
compact. You have sworn to it. Both these governors swore 
to it. The senator from New York swore to it. The governor 
of Ohio swore to it when he was inaugurated. You can not bind 
them by oaths. Yet they talk to us of treason; and I suppose 
thev expect to whip freemen into loving such brethren! They 
will have a good time in doing it! 

It is natural we should want this provision of the Constitution 
carried out. The Constitution says slaves are property; the 
Supreme Court says so; the Constitution says so. 'Hie theft of 


daves is a crime; they are a subject-matter of felonious asporta- 
tion. By the text and letter of the Constitution you agreed to 
give them up. You have sworn to do it, and you have broken 
your oaths. Of course, those who have done so look out for pre- 
texts. Nobody expected them to do otherwise. I do not tmnk 
I ever saw a perjurer, however bald and naked, who could not 
invent some pretext to palliate his crime, or who could not, for 
fifteen shillings, hire an Old Bailey lawyer to invent some for him. 
Yet this requirement of the Constitution is another one of the 
extreme demands of an extremist and a rebel. 

The next stipulation is that fup[itive slaves shall be surrendered 
under the provisions of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, without 
being entitled either to a writ of habeas corpus, or trial by jury, 
or other similar obstructions of legislation, in the State to whidi 
he may flee. Here is the Constitution: 

" No person held to service or labor in one State, under the 
laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in consequence of 
any law or regulation therein, be discharged from sudi service 
or labor, but shall be delivered up on daim of the party to 
whom such service or labor may be due." 

This language is plain, and everybody understood it the same 
way for the first forty years of your government. In 1793, in 
Washington's time, an act was passed to carry out this provision. 
It was adopted unanimously in the Senate of the United States, 
and nearly so in the House of Representatives. Nobody then 
had invented pretexts to show that the Constitution cud not 
mean a negro slave. It was clear; it was plain. Not only the 
federal courts, but all the local courts in all the States, decided 
that this was a constitutional obligation. How is it now? The 
North sought to evade it; following the instincts of their natural 
character, they commenced with the fraudulent fiction that 
fugitives were entitled to habeas corpus, entitled to trial by jury 
in the State to which they fled. They pretended to believe that 
our fugitive slaves were entitled to more rights than their white 
citizens; perhaps they were right, they know one another better 
than I do. You may charge a white man with treason, or felony, 
or other crime, and you do not require any trial by jury before 
he is given up; there is nothing to determine but that he is 
legally charged with a crime and that he fled, and then he is to be 
ddivered up upon demand. White people are delivered up every 
day in this way; but not slaves, ^ves, black people, you say, 
are entitled to trial by juiv; and in this way schemes have been 
invented to defeat your pLun constitutional obligations. 

Senators, the Constitution is a compact. It contains all our 
obligations and the duties of the f edersu government. I am con- 
tent and have ever been content to sustam it. While I doubt its 
perfection, while I do not believe it was a good compact, and 


while I never saw the day that I would have voted for it as a 
proposition de novo, yet I am bound to it by oath and by that 
common prudence which would induce men to abide by estab- 
lished forms rather than to rush into unknown dangers. I have 
given to it, and intend to give to it, unfaltering support and 
allegiance, but I choose to put that allegiance on the true ground, 
not on the false idea that anybody's blood was shed for it. I say 
tiiat the Constitution is the whole compact. All the obligations, 
all the chains that fetter the limbs of my people, are nonunated 
in the bond, and they wisely excluded any conclusion against 
them, by declaring that "the powers not granted by the Consti- 
tution to the Umted States, or forbidden by it to the States, 
belonged to the States respectively or the people." 

Now I will try it by that standard; I will subject it to that 
test. The law of nature, the law of justice, would say — and it is 
so expounded by the publicists — that equal rights in the common 
property shall be enjoyed. Even in a monarchy the long can not 
prevent the subjects from enjoying equality in the deposition 
of the public property. Even in a despotic government this 
principle is recognized. It was the blood and the money of the 
whole people (says the learned Grotius, and say all the publicists) 
which acquired the public property, and therefore it is not the 
property of the sovereign. This right of ©quality being, then, 
according to justice and natural equity, a right belonging to all 
States, when did we give it up? You say Congress has a right to 
pass rules and regulations concerning the Territory and otiier 
property of the United States. Very well. Does that exclude 
those whose blood and money paid for it? Does "dispose of" 
mean to rob the rightful owners? You must show a better title 
than that, or a better sword than we have. 

What, then, will you take? You will take nothing but your 
own judgment; that is, you will not only judge for yourselves, 
not only discard the court, discard our construction, discard the 
practise of the government, but you will drive us out, simply 
because you will it. Come and ao it! You have sapped the 
foundations of society; you have destroyed almost all nope of 
peace. In a compact where there is no common arbiter, where 
the parties finally decide for themselves, the sword alone at last 
becomes the real, if not the constitutional, arbiter. Your party 
says that you will not take the decision of the Supreme Court. 
You said so at Chicago; you said so in committee; every man of 
you in both Houses says so. What are you going to do? You 
say we shall submit to your construction. We shall do it, if 
you can make us; but not otherwise, or in any other manner. 
That is settled. You may call it secession, or you may call 
it revolution; but there is a big fact standing before you, 
ready to oppose you — ^that fact is, freemen with arms in their 




My Fellow Citizens: — No people on earth have more cause 
to be thankful than ours, and tnis is said reverently, in no spirit 
of boastfulness in our own strength, but with gratitude to the 
Giver of Good, Who has blessed us with the conditions which 
have enabled us to achieve so large a measure of well-being and 

To us as a people it has been ^pranted to lay the foundations of 
our national life in a new contment. We are the heirs of the 
ages, and yet we have had to pay few of the penalties which in 
old countries are exacted by the dead hand of a bygone civiliza- 
tion. We have not been oblif^ed to fight for our existence against 
any alien race; and yet our life has c^ed for the vigor and c^ort 
without which the manlier and hardier virtues wither away. 

Under such conditions it would be our own fault if we failed, 
and the success which we have had in the past, the success which 
we confidently believe the future will bring, should cause in us 
no feeling of vainglory, but rather a deep and abiding realization 
of all that life has offered us; a full acknowledgment of the 
responsibility which is ours; and a fixed determination to show 
that under a free government a mighty people can thrive best, 
iJike as regard the things of the hoay and the things of the souL 

Much has been given to us, and much will rightfully be ex- 
pected from us. We have duties to others and duties to ourselves 
— and we can shirk neither. We have become a great nation, 
forced by the fact of its greatness into relation to 3ie other na- 
tions of the earth, and we must behave as beseems a people with 
such responsibilities. 

Toward all other nations, laxge and small, our attitude must 
be one of cordial and sincere friendship. We must show not only 
in our words but in our deeds that we are earnestly desirous of 
securing their good will by acting toward them in a spirit of just 
and generous recognition of all their rights. 

But justice and generosity in a nation, as in an individual, 
count most when ^own not by the weak but by the strong. 
While ever careful to refrain from wronging others, we must be 
no less insistent that we are not wronged ourselves. We wish 
peace; but we wish the peace of justice, the peace of righteous- 
ness. We wish it because we think it is right, and not because 
we are afraid. No weak nation that acts rightly and justly 
should ever have cause to fear, and no strong power should ever 
be able to single us out as a subject for insolent aggression. 

Our relations with the other powers of the world are important; 
but still more important are our relations among ourselves. Sudi 


growth in wealth, in population, and in power, as a nation has 
seen during a century and a quarter of its national life, is inevita- 
bly accompanied by a like growth in the problems which are ever 
bd^ore every nation that rises to greatness. Power invariably 
means both responsibility and danger. Our forefathers faced 
certain perils which we have outgrown. We now face other perils 
the very existence of which it was impossible that they should 

Modem life is both complex and intense, and the tremendous 
changes wrought by the extraordinary industrial development 
of the half century are felt in every fiber of our social and political 
being. Never before have men tried so vast and formidable an 
experiment as that of administering the affairs of a continent 
under the forms of a democratic republic. The conditions whidi 
have told for our marvelous material well-being, which have 
develcn>ed to a very high degree our enerey, self-reliance, and 
individual initiative, also have brought the care and anxiety 
inseparable from the accumulation of great weedth in industrial 

Upon the success of our experiment much depends — ^not onlv 
as regards our own welfare, but as regards the welfare of mankind. 
If we fail, the cause of free self-government throughout the world 
will rock to its foundations, and therefore our responsibility is 
heavy, to ourselves, to the world as it is to-day, and to the genera- 
tions yet unborn. 

There is no good reason why we should fear the future, but 
there is every reason why we should face it seriously, neither 
hiding from ourselves the gravity of the problems before us, nor 
fearing to approach these problems with the unboiding, unflinch- 
ing purpose to solve them aright. 

Yet after all, tho the problems are new, tho the tasks set before 
us differ from the tasks set before our fathers, who founded and 
and preserved this Republic, the spirit in which these tasks must 
be undertaken and these problems faced, if our duty is to be well 
done, remains essentialfy unchanged. We know that self- 
government is difficult. We know that no people needs such hi^h 
traits of character as that people which seeks to govern its affau:8 
aright through the freely expressed will of the free men who com- 
pose it. 

But we have faith that we shaU not prove false to memories of 
the men of the mighty past. They did their work; thev left us 
the splendid heritage we now enjoy. We in our turn have an 
assured confidence that we shall be able to leave this heritage 
unwasted and enlarged to our children's children. 

To do so, we must show, not merely in great crises, but in the 
every-day affairs of life, the qualities of practical intdligenoe, of 
courage, of hardihood, and endurance, and, above all, the power 
of devotion to a lofty ideal, which made great the men who 


founded this Republic in the days of Washington; winch made 
sreat the men who preserved this Republic in the dajrs of 
Abraham Lincoln. 


In our modem industrial civilization there are manjr and grave 
dangers to counterbalance the splendors and the tnumphs. It 
is not a good thing to see cities grow at disproportionate speed 
relatively to the country; for the small land owners, the men 
who own their little homes, and therefore to a verv large extent 
the men who till farms, the men of the soil, have hith^to made 
the foundation of lasting national life in every State; and, if the 
foundation becomes either too weak or too narrow, tiie super- 
structure, no matter how attractive, is in imminent danger of 

But far more important than the question of the occupaticxi 
of our citizens is the question of how their family life is conoucted. 
No matter what that occupation may be, as long as there is a real 
home and as long as those who make up that home do their duty 
to one another, to their neighbors and to the State, it is of minor 
consequence whether the man's trade is plied in the country or 
in the city, whether it calls for the work of the hands or for the 
work of the head. 

No piled-up wealth, no splendor of material growth, no bril- 
liance of artistic development, will permanently avail any people 
unless its home life is healthy, unless the average man 

honesty, courage, common sense, and decency, unless he works 
hard and is wilBng at need to fight hard; and unless the average 
woman is a good wife, a good mother, able and willing to per- 
form the first and greatest duty of womanhood, able and willing 
to bear, and to brinf tm as they should be brought up, healthy 
children, sound in body, mind, and character, and numerous 
enough so that the race shall increase and not decrease. 

There are certain old truths which will be true as long as this 
world endures, and which no amount of progress can alter. One 
of these is the truth that the primary duty ot the husband is to be 
the home-maker, the breadwinner tor his wife and children, and 
that the primary duty of the woman is to be the helpmate, the 
house-wife, and mother. The wdman should have ample educa- 
tional advantages; but save in exceptional cases the man must 
be, and she need not be, and generally ought not to be, trained 
for a lifelong career as the family breadwinner; and, therefore, 

'From his speech in Waahinffton on Mmroh 18, 1005, before the NatiooAl 
Congrew of Mothers. Printed from a oopy fumiahed by the preaideiit for 
ooUeotion, in reaponae to a requeet. 


after a certain point, the training of the two must normally be 
different because the duties of the two are normally different. 
This does not mean inequality of fxmction, but it does mean that 
normally there must be dissimilarity of function. On the whole, 
I think the duty of the woman the more important, the more 
difficult, and the more honorable of the two; on the whole I 
respect the woman who does her duty even more than I respect 
the man who does his. 

No ordinaiy work done by a man is either as hard or as re- 
sponsible as the work of a woman who is bringing up a family of 
small children; for upon her time and strength demands are mieule 
not only every hotir of the day but often every hour of the night. 
She may have to get up night after night to take care of a sick 
child, and yet must by day continue to do all her household 
duties as wcdl ; and if the f axnily means are scant she must usually 
enjoy even her rare holidays taking her whole brood of children 
with her. The birth pangs make all men the debtors of all 
women. Above all our sympathy and regard are due to the 
struggling wives among those whom Abraham Lincoln called 
the plain people, and whom he so loved and trusted; for the lives 
of these women are often led on the lonely heights of quiet, self- 
sacrificing heroism. 

Just as the happiest and most honorable and most useful task 
that can be set any man is to earn enough for the support of his 
wife and family, for the bringing up and starting in life of his 
children, so the most important, the most honorable and desira- 
ble task which can be set any woman is to be a good and wise 
mother in a home marked bv self-respect and mutual forbearance, 
by willingness to perform duty, and by refusal to sink into self- 
indulgence or avoid that which entails effort and self-sacrifice. 
Of course there are exceptional men and exceptional women who 
can do and ought to do much more than this, who can lead and 
ought to lead great careers of outside usefulness in addition to — 
not as substitutes for — ^their home work; but I am not speaking 
of exceptions; I am speaking of the primary duties, I am speaking 
of the average citizens, the average men and women who make 
up the nation. 

Inasmuch as I am speaking to an assemblage of mothers, I 
shall have nothing whatever to say in praise of an easy life. Yours 
is the work which is never ended. No mother has an easy time, 
the most mothers have very hard times; and yet what true 
mother would barter her experience of joy and sorrow in exchange 
for a life of cold selfishness, which insists upon perpetual amuse- 
ment and the avoidance of care, and which often finds its fit 
dwelling place in some flat designed to furnish with the least 
possible expenditure of effort the maximum of comfort and of 
luxury, but in which there is literally no place for childr^i? 

The woman who is a good wife, a good mother, is entitled to 


our respect as is no one else; but she is entitled to it only because, 
and so long as, she is worthy of it. Effort and self-sacrifice aie 
the law of worthy life for the man as for the wonmn ; tho neither 
the effort nor the self-sacrifice may be the same for the one as for 
tiie other. I do not in the least believe in the patient Griselda 
type of woman, in the woman who submits to gross and long 
continued ill treatment, any more than I believe in a man who 
tamely submits to wrongful aggression. No wrong-doing is so 
abhorrent as wrong-doing by a man toward the wife and the 
children who should arouse every tender feeling in his nature. 
Selfishness toward them, lack of tenderness toward them, lade 
of consideration for them, above all, brutality^ in any form toward 
them, should arouse the heartiest scorn and indignation in every 
upright soul. 

I believe in the woman keeping her self-respect just as I believe 
in the man doing so. I believe in her rights just as much as I 
believe in the man's, and indeed a little more; and I regard 
marriage as a partnership, in which each partner is in honor 
bound to think of the rignts of the other as well as of his or her 
own. But I think that tne duties are even more important than 
the rights; and in the long run I think that the reward is ampler 
and greater for duty wefi done, than for the insistence upon 
individual rights, necessary tho this, too, must often be. Your 
duty is hard, your responsibility great; but neatest of all is 

four reward. I do not pity you in the least. On the contrary, 
feel respect and admiration for you. 

Into the woman's keeping is committed the destiny of the 
generations to come after us. In bringing up your children you 
mothers must remember that while it is essential to be loving 
and tender it is no less essential to be wise and firm. Foolishness 
and affection must not be treated as interchangeable terms; 
and besides training your sons and daughters in the softer and 
milder virtues, you must seek to give them those stem and hardy 
qualities which in after life they will surely need. Some children 
will go wrong in spite of the best training; and some will go 
right even when their surroundings are most unfortunate; never- 
theless an immense amount depends upon the family traininsj. 
If you mothers through weakness bring up your sons to be selfi^ 
and to think only of themselves, you wHl oe re^)onsible for much 
sadness among the women who are to be their wives in the future. 
If you let your daughters grow up idle, perhaps under the mis- 
taken impression that as you yourselves nave nad to work hard 
thev shaU know only enjoyment, you are preparing them to be 
useless to others and burdens to themselves. Teach boys and 
girls alike that they are not to look forward to lives spent in 
avoiding difficulties, but to lives spent in overcoming difficulties. 
Teach them that work, for themselves and also for others, is not 
a curse but a blessing; seek to make them happy, to make them 


enjoy life, but seek also to make them face life with the steadfast 
resolution to wrest success from labor and adversity, and to do 
their whole duty before God and to man. Surely she who can thus 
train her sons and her daughters is thrice fortunate among women. 

There are many good people who are denied the supreme bless- 
ing of children, and for these we have the respect and sjrmpathy 
always due to those who, from no fault of their own, are denied 
any of the other great blessings of life. But the man or woman 
who deliberately foregoes these blessings, whether from vicious- 
ness, coldness, shallow-heartedness, self-indulgence, or mere 
failure to appreciate aright the difference between the all- 
important and the unimportant, — ^why, such a creature merits 
contempt as hearty as any visited upon the soldier who nms 
away in battle, or upon the man who refuses to work for the 
support of those dependent upon him, and who tho able-bodied 
is yet content to eat in idleness the bread which others provide. 

The existence of women of this type forms one of the most 
unpleasant and unwholesome features of modem life. If any 
one is so dim of vision as to fail to see what a thoroughly unlovely 
creature such a woman is I wish they would read Judge Robert 
Grant's novel "Unleavened Bread," ponder seriously the char- 
acter of Selma, and think of the fate that would surely overcome 
any nation which developed its average and typical woman aloxig 
such lines. Unfortunately it would be untrue to say that this 
type exists only in American novels. That it also existe in Ameri- 
can life is made unpleasantly evident by the statistics as to the 
dwindling families in some localities. It is made evident in 
equally sinister fashion by the census statistics as to divorce, 
which are fairly appalling; for easy divorce is now as it ever has 
been, a bane to any nation, a curse to society, a menace to the 
home, an incitement to married unhappiness and to immorality, 
an evil thing for men and a still more hideous evil for women. 
These tmpleasant tendencies in our American life are made 
evident by articles such as those which I actually read not long 
ago in a certain paper, where a clergyman was quoted, seemingly 
with approval, as expressing the general American attitude when 
he saia that the ambition of any save a very rich man should be 
to rear two children only, so as to give his children an opportunity 
"to taste a few of the good things of life." 

This man, whose profession and calling should have made him 
a moral teacher, actually set before others the ideal, not of train- 
ing children to do their duty, not of sending them forth with 
stout hearts and ready minds to win triumphs for themselves 
and their country, not of allowing them the opportunity, and 
giving them the privilege of making their own place in the world, 
but, forsooth, of keeping the number of children so limited that 
thejr might "taste a few good things!" The way to give a child 
a fair chance in life is not to bring it up in luxury, but to see that 


it has the kind of training that will give it strength of character. 
Even apart from the vital question of national life, and regarding 
only the individual interest of the children themselves, happi- 
ness in the true sense is a hundredfold more apt to come to any 
given member of a healthy family of healthy-minded children, 
well brought up, well educated, but taught that they must shift 
for themselves, must win their own way, and by their own exer- 
tions make their own positions of usefulness, than it is apt to 
come to those whose parents themselves have acted on and have 
trained their children to act on, the selfish and sordid theory 
that the whole end of life is to "taste a few good things." 

The intelligence of the remark is on a par with its morality; 
for the most rudimentary mental process would have shown the 
speaker that if the average family in which there are children 
contained but two children the nation as a whole would decrease 
in population so rapidly that in two or three generations it would 
very deservedly be on the point of extiaction, so that the people 
who had acted on this base and selfish doctrine wotdd be giving 
place to others with braver and more robust ideals. Nor would 
such a result be in any way regrettable; for a race that practised 
such doctrine — that is, a race that practised race suicide — ^would 
thereby conclusively show that it was unfit to exist, and that it 
had better give place to people who had not forgotten the primary 
laws of their being. 

To sum up, then, the whole matter is simple enough. If either 
a race or an individual prefers the pleasure of more effortless 
ease, of self-indulgence, to the infinitely deeper, the infinitely 
higher pleasures that come to those who know the toil and the 
weariness, but also the joy, of hard duty well done, why, that 
race or that individual must inevitably in the end pay the penalty 
of leading a life both vapid and ignoble. No man and no woman 
really worthy of the name can care for the life spent solely or 
chiefly in the avoidance of risk and trouble and labor. Save in 
exceptional cases the prizes worth having in life must be paid 
for, and the life worth living must be a life of work for a worthy 
end, and ordinarily of work more for others than for one's self. 

The woman's task is not easy — no task worth doing is easy — 
but in doing it, and when she has done it, there shall come to her 
the highest and holiest joy known to mankind; and having done 
it, she shall have the reward prophesied in Scripture; for her 
husband and her children, yes, and all people who realize that 
her work lies at the foundation of all national happiness and 
greatness, shall rise up and call her blessed. 




From a speech opening the National Democratic 
Convention at Baltimore, Md., June, 1912. 

It is not the wild and cruel methods of revolution and violence 
that are needed to correct the abuses incident to our Government 
as to all things human. Neither material nor moral progress 
lies that way. We have made our Government and otir com- 
plicated institutions by appeals to reason, seeking to educate 
all our people that, day after day, year after year, century after 
century, they may see more clearly, act more justly, become 
more and more attached to the fundamental ideas that underlie 
our society. If we are to preserve undiminished the heritage 
bequeathed us, and add to it those accretions without which 
society would perish, we shall need all the powers that the school, 
the church, the court, the deliberative assembly, and the quiet 
thought of otir people can bring to bear. 

We are called upon to do battle against the unfaithful guardians 
of our Constitution and liberties and the hordes of ignorance 
which are pushing forward only to the ruin of our social and 
governmental fabric. 

Too long has the country endured the offenses of the leaders of a 
party which once knew greatness. Too long have we been blind to 
the bacchanal of corruption. Too long have we listlessly watched the 
assembling of the forces that threaten our country and our firesides. 

The time has come when the salvation of the country demands 
the restoration to place and power of men of high ideals who will 
wage xmceasing war against corruption in politics, who will 
enforce the law against both rich and poor, and who will treat 
guilt as personal and ptmish it accordingly. 

What is our duty? To think alike as to men and measures? 
Impossible ! Even for our great party ! There is not a reactionary 
among us. AH Democrats are Progressives. But it is inevitably 
human that we shall not all agree that in a single highway is 
found the only road to progress, or each make the same man of 
aU our worthy candidates his first choice. 

It is impossible, however, and it is our duty to put aside all 
selfishness, to consent cheerftdly that the majority shall speak 
for each of us, and to march out of this convention shoulder to 
shoulder, intoning the praises of otir chosen leader — and that 
will be his due, whichever of the honorable and able men now 
claiming our attention shaU be chosen. 




At the National Democratic Convention, Baltimore. 

Maryland, June, 1912. 

The New Jersey delegation is commissioned to represent the 
great cause of Democracy and to offer you as its militant and 
triumphant leader a scholar, not a charlatan; a statesman, not 
a doctrinaire; a profound lawyer, not a splitter of legal hairs; 
a political economist, not an egotistical theorist; a practical 
politician, who constructs, modifies, restrains, without disturb- 
ance and destruction; a resistless debater and consummate 
master of statement, not a mere sophist; a humanitarian, not a 
defamer of characters and lives; a man whose mind is at once 
cosmopolitan and composite of America; a gentleman of unpre- 
tentious habits, with the fear of God in his heart and the love of 
mankind exhibited in every act of his life; above all a public 
servant who has been tried to the uttermost and never found 
wanting — matchless, unconquerable, the ultimate Democrat, 
Woodrow Wilson. 

New Jersey has reasons for her course. Let us not be deceived 
in our premises. Cam^gns of vilification, corruption and false 
pretence -have lost their useftdness. The evolution of national 
energy is towards a more intelligent morality in politics and in 
all other relations. The situation admits of no compromise. 
The temper and purpose of the American public will tolerate 
no other view. The indifference of the American people to 
politics has disappeared. Any platform and any canoidate not 
conforming to this vast social and commerdal behest will go 
down to ignominious defeat at the polls. 

Men are known by what they say and do. They are known 
by those who hate and oppose them. Many years ago Woodrow 
Wilson said, "No man is great who thinks himself so, and no 
man is good who does not try to secure the happiness and com- 
fort of others." This is the secret of his life. TTie deeds of this 
moral and intellectual giant are known to all men. They accord, 
not with the shams and false pretences of politics, but make 
national harmony with the miUions of patriots determined to 
correct the wrongs of plutocracy and reestablish the maxims of 
American liberty in all their regnant beauty and practical effec- 
tiveness. New Jersey loves Woodrow Wilson not for the enemies 
he has made. New Jersey loves him for what he is. New Jersey 
areues that Woodrow Wilson is the only candidate who can not 
only make Democratic success a certainty, but secure the 
electoral vote of almost every State in the Union. 

New Jersey will indorse his nomination by a majority of 
100,000 of her liberated citizens. We are not building for a day, 
or even a generation, but for all time. New Jersey believes that 


there is an omniscience in national instinct. That instinct 
centers in Woodrow Wilson. He has been in political life less 
than two years. He has had no organization; only a practical 
ideal — the reSstablishment of equal opportunity. Not his deeds 
alone, not his immortal words alone, not his personality alone, 
not his matchless powers alone, but all combined compel national 
faith and confidence in him. Every crisis evolves its master. 
Time and circumstance have evolved Woodrow Wilson. The 
North, the South, the East, and the West unite in him. New 
Jersey appeals to this convention to give the nation Woodrow 
Wilson, that he may open the gates of opportunity to every man, 
woman, and child under our flag, by reforming abuses, and 
thereby teaching them, in his matchless words, " to release their 
energies intelligently, that peace, justice and prosperity may 
reign." New Jersey rejoices, through her freely chosen repre- 
sentatives, to name for the presidency of the United States the 
Princeton schoolmaster, Woodrow Wilson. 



Delivered at the annual banquet of the Boston Mer- 
chants' Association, at Boston, Mass., December 12,' 1889. 

Mr. President: — ^Bidden by your invitation to a discussion 
of the race problem — ^forbidden by occasion to make a political 
speech — I appreciate, in trying to reconcile orders with pro- 
priety, the perplexity of the little maid, who, bidden to learn to 
swim, was yet adjured, *' Now, go, my darling; hang your clothes 
on a hickory limb, and don't go near the water." 

The stoutest apostle of the Church, they say, is the missionary, 
and the missionary, wherever he unfurls his flag, will never find 
himself in deeper need of unction and address than I, bidden 
to-night to plant the standard of a Southern Democrat in Boston's 
banquet hall, and to discuss the problem of the races in the home 
of Phillips and of Sumner. But, Mr. President, if a purpose to 
speak in perfect frankness and sincerity; if earnest understand- 
ing of the vast interests involved; if a consecrating sense of what 
disaster may follow further misunderstanding and estrangement; 
if these may be counted upon to steadjr undisciplined speech and 
to strengthen an untried arm — ^then, sir, I shall find the courage 
to procrod. 

Happy am I that this mission has brought my feet at last to 
press New England's historic soil and my eyes to the knowledge 
of her beauty and her thrift. Here within touch of Plymouth 
Rock and Bunker Hill — where Webster thundered and Long- 
fellow sang, Emerson thought and Channing preached — here, 
in the cradle of American letters and almost of American Uberty, 


I hasten to make the obeisance that every American owes New 
England wbg^ first he stands uncovered in her mighty preaeooe. 
Strange api>llHtion! This stem and unique figure — carved from 
the ocean and the wilderness — its majesty kindling and growing 
amid the storms of winter and of wars — until at last the gloom 
was broken, its beauty disclosed in the sunshine, and the heroic 
workers rested at its base — ^while startled kings and emperors 
gazed and marveled that from the rude touch of this handful 
cast on a bleak and unknown shore should have come the em- 
bodied genius of human government and the perfected model of 
htunan Uberty ! God bless the memory of those immortal workers, 
and prosper the fortunes of their hving sons — and perpetuate 
the inspiration of their handiwork. 

Two years ago, sir, I spoke some words in New York that 
catight the attention of the North. As I stand here to reiterate, 
as I have done everywhere, every word I then uttered — ^to de- 
clare that the sentiments I then avowed were universally ap- 
proved in the South — I realize that the confidence begotten by 
that speech is l£U*gely responsible for my presence here to-night. 
I shotdd dishonor myself if I betrayed that confidence by utter- 
ing one insincere word, or by withholding one essential element 
of the truth. Apropos of this last, let me confess, Mr. President, 
before the praise of New England has died on my lips, that I 
believe the best product of her present life is the procession of 
seventeen thousand Vermont Democrats that for twenty-two 
years, undiminished by death, unrecruited by birth or conver- 
sion, have marched over their rugged hills, cast their Democratic 
ballots and gone back home to pray for their unr^;enerate 
neighbors, and awake to read the record of twentv-six thousand 
Republican majority. May the God of the helpless and the 
heroic hdp them, and may their sturdy tribe increase. 

Far to the South, Mr. President, separated from this section 
by a line — once defined in irrepressible difference, once traced 
in fratricidal blood, and now, thank God, but a vanishing shadow 
— ^lies the fairest and richest domain of this earth. It is Qie home 
of a brave and hospitable people. There is centered all that can 
please or prosper humankind. A perfect climate above a fertile 
soil yields to the husbandman every product of the temperate 
zone. There, by night the cotton whitens beneath the stars, 
and by day the wheat locks the sunshine in its bearded sheaf. 
In the same field the clover steals the fragrance of the wind, and 
tobacco catches the quick aroma of the rains. There are moun- 
tains stored with exhaustless treasures; forests — ^vast and 
primeval; and rivers that, tumbling or loitering, run wanton 
to the sea. Of the three essential items of all industries — cotton, 
iron and wood — ^that region has easy control. In cotton, a fixed 
monopoly — in iron, proven supremacy — in timber, the reserve 
supply of the Republic. From this assured and permanent 


advantage, against which artificial conditions cannot much 
lonp[er prevail, has grown an amazing system of industries. Not 
mamtamed by human contrivance of tariff or capital, afar off 
from the fullest and cheapest source of supply, but resting in 
divine assurance, within touch of field and mine and forest — ^not 
set amid costly farms from which competition has driven the 
farmer in despair, but amid cheap and sunny lands, rich with 
agriculture, to which neither season nor soil has set a limit — this 
system of industries is mounting to a splendor that shall dazzle 
and illumine the world. That, sir, is the picture and the promise 
of my home — a land better and fairer than I have told you, and 
yet but fit setting in its material excellence for the loyal and 
gentle quality of its citizenship. Against that, sir, we have New 
England, recruiting the Republic from its sturdy loins, shaking 
from its overcrowded hives new swarms of workers, and touching 
this land all over with its energy and its courage. And yet — 
while in the Eldorado of which I have told you but fifteen per 
cent of its lands are cultivated, its mines scarcely touched, and 
its population so scant that, were it set equidistant, the sound 
of the human voice could not be heard from Virginia to Texas — 
while on the threshold of nearly every house in New England 
stands a son, seeking, with troubled eyes, some new land in 
which to carry his modest patrimony, the strange fact remains 
that in 1880 the South had fewer northern-bom citizens than 
she had in 1870— fewer in 70 than in '60. Why is this? Why is 
it, sir, though the section line be now but a mist that the breath 
may dispel, fewer men of the North have crossed it ovier to the 
South, than when it was crimson with the best blood of the 
Republic, or even when the slaveholder stood guard every inch 
of its way? 

There can be but one answer. It is the very problem we are 
now to consider. The key that opens that problem will unlock 
to the world the fairest half of this Republic, and free the halted 
feet of thousands whose eyes are already kindling with its beauty. 
Better than this, it will open the hearts of brothers for thirty 
years estranged, and dasp m lasting comradeship a million han(& 
now withheld in doubt. Nothing, sir, but this problem and the 
suspicions it breeds, hinders a clear tmderstanding and a perfect 
tmion. Nothing else stands between us and such love as bound 
Geoi^a and Massachusetts at Valley Forge and Yorktown, 
chastened by the sacrifices of Manassas and Gettysburg, and 
illumined with the coming of better work and a nobler destinv 
than was ever wrought with the sword or sought at the cannon s 

If this does not invite your patient hearing to-night — ^hear 
one thing more. My people, your brothers in the South — ^brothers 
in blood, in destiny, in aU that is best in our past and future — are 
so beset with this problem that their very existence depends on 


its right solution. Nor are they wholly to blame for its presence. 
The slave-ships of the Republic sailed from your ports, the slaves 
worked in our fields. You will not defend the traffic, nor I the 
institution. But I do here declare that in its wise and humane 
administration in lifting the slave to heights of which he had not 
dreamed in his savage home, and giving him a happiness he has 
not yet found in fre^om, our fathers leit their sons a saving and 
excellent heritage. In the storm of war this institution was lost. 
I thank God as heartily as you do that human slavery is gone 
forever from American soil. But the f reedman remains. With 
him, a problem without precedent or parallel. Note its appallmg 
conditions. Two utterly dissimilar races on the same soil — ^witn 
equal political and civil rights — ^almost equal in numbers, but 
terribly unequal in intelligence and responsibility — each pledged 
against fusion — one for a century in servitude to the other, and 
freed at last by a desolating war, the experiment sought by neither 
but approached by both with doubt — ^these are the conditions. 
Under these, adverse at every point, we are required to carry 
these two races in peace and honor to the end. 

Never, sir, has such a task been given to mortal stewardship. 
Never before in this Republic has the white race divided on the 
rights of an alien race. The red man was cut down as a weed 
because he hindered the way of the American citizen. The yellow 
man was shut out of this Republic because he is an alien, and 
inferior. The red man was owner of the land — ^the yellow man 
was highly civilized and assimilable — ^but they hindered both 
sections and are gone! But the black man, anecting but one 
section, is clothed with every privil^e of government and pinned 
to the soil, and my people commanded to make good at any 
hazard, and at any cost, his full and equal heirship of American 
privilege and prosperity. It matters not that every other race 
has been routed or excluded without rhyme or reason. It matters 
not that wherever the whites and the blacks have touched, in 
any era or in any clime, there has been an irreconcilable violence. 
It matters not that no two races, however similar, have lived 
anywhere, at any time, on the same soil with eqiial rights in 
peace! In spite of these things we are commanded to make good 
this change of American policy which has not perhaps changed 
American prejudice — ^to make certain here what has elsewhere 
been impossible between whites and blacks — and to reverse, 
under the very worst conditions, the universal verdict of racial 
history. And driven, sir, to this superhuman task with an im- 
patience that brooks no delay — a rigor that accepts no excuse — 
and a suspicion that discourages frankness and sincerity. We 
do not shrink from this trial. It is so interwoven with our in- 
dustrial fabric that we cannot disentangle it if we wotdd — so 
bound up in our honorable obligation to the world, that we would 
not if we cotdd. Can we solve it? The God who gave it into 


our hands, He alone can know. But this the weakest and wisest 
of us do know: we cannot solve it with less than your tolerant 
and patient sympathy — ^with less than the knowleidge that the 
blood that runs m your veins is our blood — and that» when we 
have done our best, whether the issue be lost or won, we shall 
feel your strong arms about us and hear the beating of your 
approving hearts! 

The resolute, clear-headed, broad-minded men of the South 
— ^the men whose genius made glorious every page of the first 
seventy years of American history — ^whose courage and fortitude 
you tested in five years of the fiercest war — whose energy has 
made bricks without straw and spread splendor amid the ashes 
of their war-wasted homes — ^these men wear this problem in 
their hearts and brains, by day and by night. They realize, as 
you cannot, what this problem means — ^what they owe to this 
kindly and dependent race — ^the measure of their debt to the 
world in whose despite they defended and maintained slavery. 
And though their feet are hindered in its undergrowth, and their 
march cumbered with its burdens, they have lost neither the 
patience from which comes clearness, nor the faith from which 
comes courage. Nor, sir, when in passionate moments is dis- 
closed to them that vague and awj^ shadow, with its lurid 
abysses and its crimson staias, into which I pray God they may 
never go, are they struck with more of apprehension than is 
needed to complete their consecration! 

Such is the temper of my people. But what of the problem 
itself? Mr. President, we need not go one step further unless 
you concede rifi;ht here that the people I speak for are as honest, 
as sensible and as just as your people, seeking as earnestly as 
you would in their place to rightly soive the problem that touches 
them at every vitcd point. If you insist that they are ruffians, 
blindly striving with bludgeon and shotgun to plunder and 
oppress a race, then I shall sacrifice my self-respect and tax your 
patience in vain. But admit that they are men of common sense 
and common honesty, wisely modifying an environment they 
cannot wholly disregard — guiding and controlling as best they 
can the vicious and irresponsible of either race — compensating 
error with frankness, and retrieving in patience what they lost 
in passion — and conscious all the time that wrong means ruin — 
admit this, and we may reach an understanding to-night. 

The President of the United States, in his late message to 
Congress, discussing the plea that the South should be left to 
solve this problem, asks: "Are they at work upon it? What 
solution do they offer? When will the black man cast a free 
ballot? When will he have the civil rights that are his? " I shall 
not here protest against a partisanry that, for the first time in our 
history, m time of peace, has stamped with the great seal of our 
government a stigma upon the people of a great and loyal sec- 


tion ; though I gratefully remember that the great dead soldier, who 
held the helm of State tor the eight stormiest years of reconstruc- 
tion, never found need for such a step; and though there is no 
personal sacrifice I would not make to remove this cruel and 
tmjust imputation on my people from the archives of my country! 
But, sir, backed by a record, on every page of which is progress, 
I venture to make earnest and respectful answer to the questions 
that are asked. We give to the world this year a crop of 7,500,000 
bales of cotton, worth ^50,000,000, and its cash equivalent in 
grain, grasses and fruit. This enormous crop could not have 
come from the hands of sullen and discontented labor. It comes 
from peaceftd fields, in which laughter and gossip rise above the 
hum of industry, and contentment runs with the sin^^ing plough. 
It is claimed that this ignorant labor is defrauded of its just hue. 
I present the tax books of Georgia, which show that the negro, 
twenty-five years ago a slave, has in Georgia alone S 10,000,000 
of assessed property, worth twice that much. Does not that 
record honor him and vindicate his neighbors? 

What people, p^miless, illiterate, has done so well? For every 
Afro-American agitator, stirring the strife in which alone he 
prospers, I can show you a thousand negroes, happy in their 
cabin homes, tilling their own land by day, and at night taking 
from the lips of their children the helpful message Uieir State 
sends them from the schoolhouse door. And the schoolhouse 
itself bears testimony. In Georgia we added last year S250,000 
to the school fund, making a total of more than $1,000,000 — 
and this in the face of prejudice not yet conquered — of the 
fact that the whites are assessed for $368,000,000, the blacks 
for $10,000,000, and yet forty-nine per cent of the beneficiaries 
are black children; and in the doubt of many wise men if educa- 
tion helps, or can help, our problem. Charleston, with her 
taxable values cut half in two since 1860, pays more in propor- 
tion for public schools than Boston. Although it is easier to 
give much out of much than little out of little, the South, with 
one-seventh of the taxable property of the coxmtry, with rela- 
tively larger debt, having received only one-twelfth as much of 
public lands, and having back of its tax books none of the 
$500,000,000 of bonds that enrich the North — ^and though it 
pays annually $26,000,000 to your section as pensions — ^yet 
gives nearly one-sixth to the public school ftmd. The South 
since 1865 has spent $122,000,000 in education, and this year is 
pledged to $32,000,000 more for State and city schools, although 
the blacks, paying one-thirtieth of the taxes, get nearly one-half 
of the fund. Go into our fields and see whites and blacks working 
side by side. On our buildings in the same squad. In our shops 
at the same forge. Often the blacks crowd the whites from work, 
or lower wages by their greater need and simpler habits, and yet 
are permitted, because we want to bar them from no avenue 


in which their feet are fitted to tread. They could not there be 
elected orators of white universities, as they have been here, but 
they do enter there a hundred useful trades that are closed 
against them here. We hold it better and wiser to tend the weeds 
in the garden than to water the exotic in the window. 

In the South there are negro lawyers, teachers, editors, den- 
tists, doctors, preachers, multiplving with the increasing ability 
of their race to support them, in villages and towns they have 
their mflitary companies equipped from the armories of the 
State, their churches and societies built and supported largely 
by their neighbors. What is the testimony of the courts? In 
penal legislation we have steadily reduced felonies to mis- 
demeanors, and have led the world m mitigating punishment for 
crime, that we might save, as far as possible, this dependent 
race from its own weakness. In our penitentiary record sixty 
per cent of the prosecutors are n^^oes, and in every court the 
negro criminal strikes the colored juror, that white men may 
judge his case. 

In the North, one negro in every 186 is in jail — in the South, 
only one in 446. In the North the percentage of negro prisoners 
is six times as great as that of native whites; in the South, only 
four times as great. If prejudice wrongs him in Southern courts, 
the record shows it to oe deeper in Northern courts. I assert 
here, and a bar as intelligent and uprig;ht as the bar of Massa- 
chusetts will solemnly indorse my assertion, that in the Southern 
courts, from highest to lowest, pleading for life, liberty or prop- 
erty, the negro has distinct advantage because he is a negro, apt 
to be overreached, oppressed — and that this advantage reaches 
from the juror in nudcing his verdict to the judge in measuring 
his sentence. 

Now, Mr. President, can it be seriously maintained that we 
are terrorizing the people from whose willmg hands comes every 
year $1,000,(X)0,000 oi farm crops? Or have robbed a people 
who, twenty-five years from unrewarded slavery, have amassed 
in one State $20,000,000 of property? Or that we intend to 
oppress the people we are arming every day? Or deceive them, 
when we are educating them to the utmost limit of our ability? 
Or outlaw them, when We work side by side with them? Or re- 
enslave them under legal forms, when for their benefit we have 
even imprudently narrowed the limit of felonies and mitigated 
the severity of law? My fellow-countrjmien, as you yourselves 
may sometimes have to appeal at the bar of human jud^ent 
for justice and for right, give to my people to-night the fair and 
unanswerable conclusion of these incontestable facts. 

But it is claimed that under this fair seeming there is disorder 
and violence. This I admit. And there will be until there is 
one ideal community on earth after which we may pattern. 
But how widely is it misjudged! It is hard to measure with 


exactness whatever touches the negro. His helplessness, his 
isolation, his century of servitude, — ^these dispose us to emphasise 
and magnify his wrongs. This disposition, inflamed by prejudice 
and partisanry, has led to injustice and delusion. Lawless men 
may ravage a county in Iowa and it is accepted as an incident — 
in the South, a drunken row is declared to be the fixed habit of 
the community. Regulators may whip vagabonds in Indiana 
by platoons and it scarcely arrests attention — a chance collision 
in the South among relatively the same classes is gravely accepted 
as evidence that one race is destro3ang the other. We might as 
well claim that the Union was ungrateful to the colored soldier 
who followed its flag because a Grand Army post in Connecticut 
closed its doors to a negro veteran as for you to give racial 
significance to every incident in the South, or to accept excep- 
tional grounds as the rule of our society. I am not one of those 
who becloud American honor with the parade of the outrages of 
either section, and belie American character by declaring them 
to be significant a^id representative. I prefer to maintam that 
they are neither, and stand for nothing but the passion and sin 
of our poor fallen htunanity. If society, like a machine, were 
no stronger than its weakest part, I shoidd despair of both sec- 
tions. But, knowing that society, sentient and responsible in 
every fiber, can mend and repair tmtil the whole has the strength 
of the best, I despair of neither. These gentlemen who come 
with me here, knit into Georgia's busy life as they are, never 
saw, I dare assert, an outrage committed on a negro! And if 
they^ did, no one of you womd be swifter to prevent or punish. 
It IS through them, and the men and women who think with 
them — malong nine-tenths of every Southern commimity — that 
these two races have been carried thus far with less of violence 
than would have been possible anywhere else on earth. And in 
their fairness and courage and steadfastness — more than in all 
the laws that can be passed, or all the bayonets that can be mus- 
tered — is the hope of^our future. 

When will the blacks cast a free ballot? When ignorance 
anywhere is not dominated by the will of the intelligent; when 
the laborer anywhere casts a vote unhindered by his boss; when 
the vote of the poor anywhere is not influenced by the power of 
the rich; when the strong and the steadfast do not everywhere 
control the suffrage of the weak and shiftless — ^then, and not 
till then, will the ballot of the negro be free. The white people 
of the South are banded, Mr. President, not in prejudice against 
the blacks — not in sectional estrangement — not in the hope of 
political dominion — ^but in a deep and abiding necessity. Here 
IS this vast ignorant and purchasable vote — clannish, credulous, 
impulsive, and passionate — ^tempting every art of the demagogue, 
but insensible to the appeal of the stateman. Wrongly started, 
in that it was led into alienation from its neighbor and taught to 


rely on the protection of an outside force, it cannot be mei^ged 
and lost in the two great parties through logical currents, for 
it lacks political conviction and even that information on which 
conviction must be based. It must remain a faction — strong 
enough in every community to control on the slightest division 
of ^e whites. Under that division it becomes the prev of the 
cunning and unscrupulous of both parties. Its credulity is 
imposed upon, its patience inflamed, its cupidity tempted, its 
impulses misdirected — and even its superstition made to play 
its part in a campaign in which every interest of society is jeop- 
ardized and every approach to the ballot-box debauched. It 
is against such campaigns as this — ^the folly and the bitterness 
and the danger of whidi every Southern communilv has drunk 
deeply — ^that the white people of the South are banded together. 
Just as ^ou in Massachusetts would be banded if 300,000 men, 
not one in a hundred able to read his ballot — banded in race 
instinct, holding against you the memory of a century of slavery, 
taught by your late conquerors to distrust and oppose you, had 
alr^dy travestied legislation from your State House, and in 
every species of folly or villainy had wasted your substance and 
exhausted your credit. 

But admitting the right of the whites to unite against this 
tremendous menace, we are challenged with the smallness of 
our vote. This has long been flippantly charged to be evidence 
and has now been solemnly and officially declared to be proof 
of political turpitude and baseness on our part. Let us see. 
Virginia — a state now under fierce assault for this alleged crime 
— cast in 1888 seventy-five per cent of her vote; Massachusetts, 
the State in which I speak, sixty per cent of her vote. Was it 
suppression in Virginia and natural causes in Massachusetts? 
"Last month Virginia cast sixty-nine per cent of her vote; and 
Massachusetts, fighting in every district, cast only forty-nine 
per cent of hers. If Virginia is condemned because thirty-one 
per cent of her vote was silent, how shall this State escape, in 
which fifty-one per cent was dumb? Let us enlarge this compari- 
son. The sixteen Southern States in '88 cast sixty-seven per 
cent of their total vote — the six New England States but sixty- 
three per cent of theirs. By what fair rule shall the stigma be 
put upon one section while the other escapes? A congressional 
election in New York last week, with the polling place in touch 
of every voter, brought out only 6,000 votes of 28,000 — and the 
lack of opposition is assigned as the natural cause. In a district 
in my Stete, in which an opposition speech has not been heard 
in ten years and the polling places are miles apart — under the 
unfair reasoning of which my section has been a constant victim 
— the small vote is charged to be proof of forcible suppression. 
In Virginia an average majority of 12,000, unless hopeless divi- 
sion of the minority, was raised to 42,000; in Iowa, m the same 


election, a majority of 32,000 was ^^iiped out and an oppositioa 
majority of 8,000 was established. The change of 40,000 votes 
in Iowa is accepted as political revolution — in Virginia an increase 
of 30,000 on a safe majority is declared to be proof of political 

It is deplorable, sir, that in both sections a larger percentage 
of the vote is not r^ularly cast, but more inexplicable that 
this should be so in New England than in the South. What 
invites the negro to the ballot-box? He knows that of all men 
it has promised him most and yielded him least. His first appeal 
to sufmige was the promise of ''forty acres and a mule; his 
second, the threat that Democratic success meant his retoslave- 
ment. Both have been proved false in his experience. He looked 
for a home, and he got the Freedman's Bank. He fought under 
promise of the loaf, and in victory was denied the crumbs. E)is- 
couraged and deceived, he has realized at last that his best 
friends are his neighbors with whom his lot is cast, and whose 
prosperity is bound up in his — ^and that he has gained nothing 
m politics to compensate the loss of their confidence and sjrm- 
pathy, that is at last his best and enduring hope. And so, with- 
out leaders or organization — and lacking &e resolute heroism of 
my party friends in Vermont that maSse their hopeless march 
over the hills a high and inspiring pilgrimage — ^he shrewdlv 
measures the occasional agitator, balances his little account witn 
politics, touches up his mule, and jogs down the furrow, letting 
the mad world wag as it will ! 

The negro voter can never control in the South, and it would 
be well if partisans at the North would understand this. I have 
seen the white people of a State set about by black hosts untfl 
their fate seemed sealed. But, sir, some brave men, banding 
them together, would rise as Elisha rose in beleaguered Samaria, 
and, touching their eyes with faith, bid them look abroad to see 
the very air filled with the chariots of Israel and the horsemen 
thereof." If there is any human force that cannot be withstood, 
it is the power of the banded intelligence and responsibility of a 
free community. Against it, niunbers and corruption cannot 
prevail. It cannot be forbidden in the law, or divorced in force. 
It is the inalienable right of every free community — ^the just and 
righteous safeguard against an ignorant or corrupt suffrage. It 
is on this, sir, that we rely in the South. Not the cowardly 
menace of mask or shotgun, but the peaceful majesty of intelli- 
gence and responsibility, massed and unified for the protection 
of its homes and the preservation of its liberty. That, sir, is 
our reliance and our hope, and against it all the powers of eartii 
shall not prevail. It is just as certain that Virginia would come 
back to the unchallenged control of her white race — ^that before 
the moral and material power of her people once more unified, 
opposition would crumble until its last desperate leader was left 


alone, vainly striving to rally his disordered hosts — as that night 
should fade in the Kindling glory of the sun. You may pass 
force bills, but they will not avail. You may surrender your 
own liberties to federal election law; you may submit, in fear 
of a necessity that does not exist, that the very form of this 
government may be changed; you may invite federal inter- 
ference with the New England town meeting, that has been for 
a hundred years the guarantee of local government in America; 
this old State — which holds in its charter the boast that it "is 
a free and independent commonwealth" — may deliver its 
election machinery into the hands of the government it helped 
to create — ^but never, sir, will a single State of this Union, North 
or South, be delivered again to the control of an ignorant and 
inferior race. We wrested our state governments from negro 
supremacy when the Federal drumbeat rolled closer to the ballot- 
box, and Federal bayonets hedged it deeper about than will ever 
again be permitted in this free government. But, sir, though the 
cannon of this Republic thtmdered in every votine district in 
the South, we still should find in the mercy of Goa the means 
and the courage to prevent its re^stablishment. 

I regret, sir, that my section, hindered with this problem, 
stands in seeming estrangement to the North. If, sir, any man 
will point out to me a path down which the white people of the 
Soutn, divided, may walk in peace and honor, I will take that 

fith, though I take it alone — ^for at its end, and nowhere else, 
fear, is to be found the full prosperity of my section and the 
fuU restoration of this Union. But, sir, if the negro had not be^i 
enfranchised the South would have been divided and the Republic 
united. His enfranchisement — against which I enter no protest 
— ^holds the South united and compact. What solution, then, 
can we offer for the problem? Time alone can disclose it to us. 
We simply report progress, and ask your patience. If the problem 
be solved at all — and I firmly believe it will, though nowhere else 
has it been — it will be solved bv the people most deeply botmd 
in interest, most deeply pledged in honor to its solution. I had 
rather see my people render back this question rightly solved 
than to see them gather all the spoils over which faction has con- 
tended since Cataline conspired and Caesar fought. Meantime 
we treat the negro fairly, measuring to him justice in the fulness 
tbe strong should give to the weak, and leadmg him in the stead- 
fast ways of citizenship, that he may no longer be theprey of the 
unscrupulous and the sport of the thoughtless. We open to 
him evexy pursuit in which he can prosper, and seek to broaden 
his traimng and capacitv. We seek to hold his confidence and 
friendship — ^and to pin nim to the soil with ownership, that he 
may catdi in the fire of his own hearthstone that sense of responsi- 
bility the shiftless can never know. And we gather him into that 
alliance of intelligence and responsibility that, though it now 


runs close to racial lines, welcomes the responsible and intell^ent 
of any race. By this course, confirmed in our judgment, and 
justified in the progress already made, we hope to progress slowly 
but surely to the end. 

The love we feel for that race, you cannot measure nor com- 
prehend. As I attest it here, the spirit of my old black mammy, 
from her home up there, looks down to bless, and through the 
tumtdt of this night steals the sweet music of her croonings as 
thirty years ago she held me in her black arms and led me simling 
to sleep. This scene vanishes as I speak, and I catch a vision 
of an old Southern home with its lofty pillars and its white 
paeons fluttering down through the golden air. I see women 
with strained and anxious faces, and <3iildren alert 3^t helpless. 
I see night come down with its dangers and its apprehensions, 
and in a big homely room I feel on my tired head uie touch of 
loving hancb — now worn and wrinkled, but fairer to me yet than 
the l^ds of mortal woman, and stronger yet to lead me than 
the hands of mortal man — as they lay a mother's blessine there, 
while at her knees — ^the truest altar 1 yet have found — I thank 
God that she is safe in her sanctuary, because her slaves, sentinel 
in the silent cabin, or guard at her chamber door, put a black 
man's loyalty between her and danger. 

I catch another vision. The crisis of battle — a soldier, struck, 
staggering, fallen. I see a slave, scufiSng through the smoke, 
wincOng bos black arms about the fallen form, reddfess of hurtling 
death — ^bending his trusty face to catch the words that tremble 
on the stricken lips, so wrestling meantime with agon^ that he 
would lay down lus life in his master's stead. I see hnn by the 
weary bedside, ministering with imcomplaining patience, pray- 
ing with all his htimble heart that God will lift his master up, 
until death comes in mercy and in honor to still the soldiers 
agony and seal the soldier's life. I see him by the open grave — 
mute, motionless, uncovered, suffering for the death of him who 
in life fought against his freedom, f see him, when the mold 
is heaped and the great drama of his life is closed, turn away and 
with downcast eyes and imcertain step start out into new and 
strange fields, faltering, struggling, but moving on, until his 
shambling figure is lost in the light of this better and brighter 
day. And from the grave comes a voice, saying, "Follow him! 
put your arms about him in his need, even as he put his about 
me. Be his friend as he was mine." And out mto this new 
world — strange to me as to him, dazzling, bewildering both — ^I 
follow! Ana may God forget my people — when they forget 

Whatever the future may hold for them, whether they plod 
along in the servitude from which they have never been luted 
since the Cyrenian was laid hold upon by the Roman soldiers, 
and made to bear the cross of the famting Christ — ^whether they 


find homes again in Africa, and thus hasten the prophecy of the 
psahnist, who said, "And suddenly Ethiopia shall hold out her 
hands unto God" — ^whether forever dislocated and separate, 
they remain a weak people, beset by stronger, and exist, as the 
Turk, who lives in the jealousy rather than in the conscience of 
Europe — or whether in this miraculous Republic they break 
through the caste of twenty centuries and, bel^g universal 
history, reach the full stature of citizenship, and m peace main- 
tain it — we shall give them uttermost justice and abiding friend- 
ship. And whatever we do, into whatever seeming estrangement 
we may be driven, nothing shall disturb the love we bear this 
Republic, or mitigate our consecration to its service. I stand 
here, Mr. President, to profess no new loyalty. When General 
Lee, whose heart was the temple of our hopes, and whose arm 
was clothed with our strength, renewed his allegiance to this 
Government at Appomattox, he spoke from a heart too great 
to be false, and he spoke for every honest man from Maryland 
to Texas. From that day to this Hamilcar has nowhere in the 
South sworn voting Hannibal to hatred and vengeance, but 
everywhere to lojralty and to love. Witness the veteran standing 
at the base of a Confederate monument, above the graves of his 
comrades, his empty sleeve tossing in the April wind, adjuring 
the young men about him to serve as earnest and loyal citizens 
the Government against which their fathers fought. This mes- 
sage, delivered from that sacred presence, has gone home to the 
hearts of my fellows! And, sir, I declare here, if physical courage 
be always equal to human aspiration, that they would die, sir, 
if need be, to restore this Republic their fathers fought to dissolve. 

Such, Mr. President, is this problem as we see it, such is the 
temper in which we ^proach it, such the progress made. What 
do we ask of you? First, patience; out of this alone can come 
perfect work. Second, coimdence; in this alone can you judge 
fairly. Third, sympathy; in thisyou can help us best. Fourth, 
give us your sons as hostages. When you plant your capital in 
millions, send your sons that they may know how true are our 
hearts and may hdp to swell the Caucasian current until it can 
carry without danger this black infusion. Fifth, loyalty to the 
Republic — ^for there is sectionalism in loyalty as in estrangement. 
This hour little needs the loyalty that is loyal to one section and 
yet holds the other in enduring suspicion and estrangement. 
Give us the broad and perfect loyalty that loves and trusts 
Georgia alike with Massachusetts — that knows no South, no 
North, no East, no West, but endears with equal and patriotic 
love every foot of our soil, every State of our Union. 

A mighty duty, sir, and a mighty inspiration impels every one 
of us to-night to lose in patriotic consecration whatever estranges^ 
whatever divides. We, sir, are Americans — and we stand for 
human liberty ! The uplifting force of the American idea is under 


every throne on earth. France, Brazil — ^these are otir victories. 
To redeem the earth from kingcraft and oppression — this is our 
mission! And we shall not fall. God has sown in our soil the 
seed of His millennial harvest, and He will not lay the sickle to 
the ripening crop until His full and perfect day has come. Our 
history, sir, has been a constant and expandmg mirade, from 
Plymouth Rode and Jamestown, all the way — aye, even from 
the hour when from the voiceless and traceless ocean a new worid 
rose to the sight of the in»)ired sailor. As we approach the fourth 
centennial of that stupendous day — when the old world will come 
to marvel and to learn amid our gathered treasures — let us 
resolve to crown the mirades of our past with the spectade of a 
Republic, compact, united, indissoluble in the bonds of love — 
lovmg from the Lakes to the Gulf — ^the wounds of war healed in 
every heart as on every hill, serene and resplendent at the summit 
of human achievement and earthly glory, blazing out the path 
and making dear the way up which all the nations of the earth 
must come in God's appointed time! 



Delivered at the World's Fair, Buffalo, N. Y., on Sep- 
tember 5, 1901, the day before he was assassinated. 

I am glad again to be in the dty of Buffalo and exchange 
greetings with her people, to whose generous hospitality I am 
not a stranger, and with whose good will I have been repeatedly 
and signally honored. To-day I have additional satisfaction in 
meeting and giving welcome to the foreign representatives 
assembled here, whose presence and partidpation in this Exposi- 
tion have contributed m so marked a degree to its interest and 
success. To the commissioners of the Dominion of Canada and 
the British Colonies, the French Colonies, the Republics dt 
Mexico and of Central and South America, and the commission- 
ers of Cuba and Porto Rico, who share with us in this undertaking, 
we give the hand of fellowship and felidtate with them ui>on 
the triumphs of art, sdence, education and manufacture which 
the old has bequeathed to the new century. 

Expositions are the timekeepers of progress. They record the 
worla's advancement. They stimulate the energy, enterprise 
and intellect of the people, and quicken himian genius. They go 
into the home. They broaden and brighten the daily life of the 
people. They open mighty storehouses of information to the 
student. Every exposition, great or small, has hdped to some 
onward step. 

Comparison of ideas is alwa3rs educational and, as such, in- 
structs the brain and hand of man. Friendly rivalry foUows, 


which is the spur to industrial improvement, the inspiration to 
useful invention and to high enoeavor in all departments of 
human activity. It exacts a study of the wants, comforts, and 
even the whims of the people, and recognizes the efficacy of high 
quality and low prices to win their favor. The quest for trade is 
an incentive to men of business to devise, invent, improve and 
economize in the cost of production. Business life, whether 
among ourselves, or with other peoples, is ever a sharp struggle 
for success. It will be none the less in the future. 

Without competition we would be clinging to the clumsy and 
antiquated process of farming and manufacture and the methods 
of business of long ago, and the twentieth would be no further 
advanced than the eighteenth century. But tho commercial 
competitors we are, commercial enemies we must not be. The 
Pan-American Exposition has done its work thoroughly, pre- 
senting in its exhibits evidences of the highest skill and illus- 
trating the progress of the human family in the Western Hemi- 
sphere. This portion of the earth has no cause for humiliation 
for the part it has performed in the march of civilization. It has 
not accomplished everything; far from it. It has simpty done 
its best, and without vanity or boastfulness, and recognizmg the 
manifold achievements of others it invites the friendly rivalry 
of all the powers in the peaceful pursuits of trade and commerce, 
and will codperate with all in advancing the highest and best 
interests of humanity. The wisdom and energy of all the nations 
are none too great for the world work. The success of art, science, 
industry and invention is an international asset and a common 

After all, how near one to the other is every part of the world. 
Modem inventions have brought into dose relation widely 
separated peoples and make them better acquainted. Geo- 
graphic and political divisions will continue to exist, but dis- 
tances have been ^aced. Swift ships and fast trains are becom- 
ing cosmopolitan. They invade fields which a few years ago 
were impenetrable. The world's products are exchEmged as 
never before and with increasing transportation facilities come 
increasing knowledge and larger trade. Prices are fixed with 
mathematical precision by supply and demand. The world's 
selling prices are regulat^ by market and crop reports. We 
travel greater distances in a shorter space of time and with more 
ease than was ever dreamed of by the fathers. Isolation is no 
longer possible or desirable. The same important news is read, 
tho in different languages, the same day in all Christendom. 

The telegraph keeps us advised of what is occurring every- 
where, and the Press foreshadows, with more or less accuracy, 
the plans and purposes of the nations. Market prices of products 
and of securities are hourly known in every commercial mart, 
and the investments of the people extena beyond their own 


national boundaries into the remotest parts of the earth. Vast 
transactions are conducted and international exchan^ are made 
by the tick of the cable. Every event of interest is mmiediately 
bulletined. The quick gathering and transmission of news, Ukb 
rapid transit, are of recent origin, and are only made possible 
by the genius of the inventor and the courage of the investor. 
It took a special messenger of the government, with every facility 
known at Uie time for rapid travd, nineteen days to go from ttis 
Citv of Washington to New Orleans with a message to General 
Ja^son that the war with England had ceased and a treaty of 
peace had been signed. How different now ! We reached General 
Miles, in Porto Rico, and he was able through the military tde- 
graph to stop his armv on the firing line with the message that 
the United States and Spain had signed a protocol suspending 
hostilities. We knew almost instanter of the first shots fired at 
Santiago, and the subsequent surrender of the Spanish forces 
was known at Washington within less than an hour of its con- 
summation. The first ship of Cervera's fleet had hardly emei^ed 
from that historic harbor when the fact was flashed to our Capitol, 
and the swift destruction that followed was announced immedi- 
ately through the wonderful medium of tel^^raphy. 

So accustomed are we to safe and easy communication with 
distant kmds that its temporary interruption, even in ordinary 
times, rraults in loss and mconvenience. We shall never forget 
the days of anxious waiting and suspense when no information 
was permitted to be sent from Pekin, and the diplomatic repre- 
sentatives of the nations in China, cut c^ from all commumca- 
tion, inside and outside of the waJled capital, were surrounded 
by an angiy and misguided mob that threatened their lives; 
nor the joy that thrilled the world when a single message from 
the government of the United States brought through our 
minister the first news of the safety of the besieged diplomats. 

At the beginning of the nineteenth century there was not a 
mile of steam railroad on the globe; now there are enough miles 
to make its circuit many times. Then there was not a line of 
electric telegraph; now we have a vast mileage traversing all 
lands and seas. God and man have linked the nations together. 
No nation can longer be indifferent to any other. And as we 
are brought more and more in touch with each other, the less 
occasion is there for misunderstandings, and the stronger the 
disposition, when we have differences, to adjust them in the 
court of arbitration, which is the noblest forum for the settlement 
of international dilutes. 

My fellow citizens, trade statistics indicate that this country 
is in a state of imexampled prosperity. The fieures are almost 
appalling. They show that we are utilizing our fields and forests 
and mines, and that we are furnishing profitable employment to 
the millions of workingmen throughout the United States, bring- 


ing comfort and happiness to their homes, and maXring it possible 
to lay by savings for old age and disability. That all the people are 
participating in this great prosperity is seen in every American 
community and shown bv the enormous and unprecedented 
deposits in our savings banks. Our duty in the care and security 
of these deposits and their safe investment demands the hi^est 
integrity and the best business capacity of those in charge of 
these depositories of the people's earnings. 

We have a vast and intricate business, built up through years 
of toil and struggle in which eveiy part of the country has its 
stake, which wuTnot permit of either neglect or of undue sel- 
fishness. No narrow, sordid policy will subserve it. The great- 
est skill and wisdom on the part of manufacturers and producers 
will be required to hold and increase it. Our industrial enter- 

g rises, which have ^rown to such great proportions, affect the 
omes and occupations of the people and the welfare of the 
country. Our capacity to produce has developed so enormously 
and our products have so multiplied that the problem of more 
markets requires our uxgent and immediate attention. Only a 
broad and oilightened policy will keep what we have. No oUier 
policy will get more. In these times of marvelous business energy 
and gain we ought to be looking to the future, strengthening the 
weak places in our industrial and commercial systems, that we 
may be ready for any storm or strain. 

By sensible trade arrangements which will not interrupt our 
home production we shall extend the outlets for our increasing 
surplus. A system which provides a mutual exchange of com- 
modities is manifestly essential to the continued and healthful 
growth of our export trade. We must not repose in the fancied 
security that we can forever sell everything and buy little or 
nothing. If such a thing were possible it would not be best for 
us or for those with whom we deal. We should take from our 
customers such of their products as we can use without harm 
to our industries and labor. Reciprocity is the natural outgrowth 
of our wonderful industrial development imder the domestic 
policy now firmly established. 

What we produce beyond our domestic consumption must 
have a vent abroad. The excess must be relieved through a 
foreign outlet, and we should sell everywhere we can and buy 
wherever the buying will enlarge our sales and productions, 
and thereby make a greater demand for home labor. 

The period of exdusiveness is past. The expansion of our trade 
and commerce is the pressing problem. Commercial wars are 
unprofitable. A policy of ^ood will and f riendly^ trade relations 
will prevent reprisals. Reaprocity treaties are m harmoxiv with 
the spirit of the times; measures of retaliation are not. If, per- 
chance, some of our tariffs are no longer needed for revenue or 
to encourage and protect our industries at home, why should 


they not be employed to extend and promote our markets abroad? 
llien, too, we nave inadequate steamship service. New lines of 
steamships have already oeen put in commission between the 
Padfic coast ports of the United States and those on the western 
coasts of Mexico and Central and South America. These should 
be followed up with direct steamship lines between the western 
coast of the United States and South American ports. One of the 
needs of the times is direct commercial lines from our vast fields 
of production to the fields of consumption that we have but 
bamy touched. Next in advantage to having the thing to sdl 
is to have the conveyance to carry it to the buyer. We must 
encourage our merchant marine. We must have more ships. 
They must be under the American flag; bmlt and manned and 
owned by Americans. These will not only be profitable in a 
conmiercial sense; they will be messengers of peiEtce and amity 
wherever they go. 

We must build the Isthmian canal, which will unite the two 
oceans and give a straight line of water communication with the 
western coasts of Central and South America and Mexico. The 
construction of a Pacific cable can not be longer postponed. In 
the furtherance of these objects of national interest and concern 
you are performing an important part. This Exposition would 
have touched the heart of that American statesman whose mind 
was ever alert and thought ever constant for a larger commerce 
and a truer fraternity of the republics of the New World. His 
broad American spint is felt and manifested here. He needs no 
identification to an assemblage of Americcms anywhere, for the 
name of Blaine is inseparably associated with the Pan-American 
movement which finds here practical and substantial expression, 
and which we all hope will be firmly advanced by the Pan- 
American Congress that assembles tlus autumn in the capital 
of Mexico. The good work will go on. It can not be stopped. 
Those buildings will disappear; this creation of art and beauty 
and industry wlU perish from sight, but their influence will remain 
to "nudce it live beyond its too short living with praises and 
thanksgiving." Who can tell the new thoughts that have been 
awakened, the ambitions fired and the high achievements that 
will be wrought through this Exposition? 

Gentlemen, let us ever remember that our interest is in con- 
cord, not conflict; and that our real eminence rests in the vic- 
tories of peace, not those of war. We hope that all who are repre- 
sented here may be moved to higher and nobler efforts for their 
own and the world's good, and that out of this city may come not 
only greater commerce and trade for us all, but, more essential than 
these, rdations of mutual respect, confidence and friendship which 
will deepen and endure. Our earnest prayer is that God will gra- 
ciously vouchsafe prosperity, happiness and peace to aU our neigh- 
bors, and like blessings to all the peoples and powers of earth. 




Prom his memorial address at a joint session of the Senate 
and House of Representatives on February 27, 1903. 

For the third time the Congress of the United States are 
assembled to commemorate the Bfe and the death of a president 
slain by the hand of an assassin. The attention of the future 
historian will be attracted to the features which reappear with 
startling sameness in all three of these awful crimes: the useless- 
ness, the utter lack of consequence of the act; the obscurity, 
the insignificance of the crimmal; the blamelessness — so far as 
in our sphere of existence the best of men may be held blamdess 
— of the victim. Not one of our murdered presidents had an 
enemv in the world; they were all of such preeminent purity of 
life that no pretext could be given for the attack of passional 
crime; they were all men of democratic instincts, who could 
never have offended the most jealous advocates of equity; they 
were of kindly and generous nature, to whom wrong or injustice 
was impossible; of moderate foittme, whose slender means 
nobody could envy. They were men of austere virtue, of tender 
heart, of eminent abilities, which they had devoted with single 
minds to the good of the Republic. If ever men walked before 
God and man without blame, it was these thr^e rulers of our 
people. The only temptation to attack their lives offered was 
their gentle radiance — to eyes hating the light, that was offense 

The stupid uselessness of such an infamy affronts the common 
sense of the world. One can conceive how the death of a dictator 
may change the political conditions of an empire; how the 
extmction of a narrowing line of kings may brmg in an alien 
dynasty. But in a well-ordered Reputnic like ours the ruler may 
fall, but the State feels no tremor. Our beloved and revered 
leader is gone — but the natural process of our laws provides us a 
successor, identical in purpose and ideals, nourished by the same 
teachings, inspired by the same principles, pledged by tender 
affection as well as by high loyalty to carry to completion the 
immense task committed to his hands, ana to smite with iron 
severity every manifestation of that hideous crime which his 
mild predecessor, with his dying breath, forgave. The sayings of 
celestial wisdom have no dfate; the words that reach us, over 
two thousand years, out of the darkest hour of gloom the world 
has ever known, are true to life to-day: "They know not what 
they do." The blow struck at our dear friend and ruler was as 
deadly as blind hate could make it; but the blow struck at 
anarchy was deadlier still. 

How many cotmtries can join with us in the community of a 


kindred soirow! I will not speak of those distant regions where 
assassination enters into the daily life of government. But 
among the nations bound to us by the ties of familiar intercourse 
— ^who can f ox^et that wise and mild autocrat who had earned 
the proud title of the liberator? that enlightened and magnani- 
mous citizen whom France still mourns? that brave and diival- 
rous king of Italy who only lived for his people? and, saddest of 
all, that lovely and sorrowmg empress, whose harmless life could 
hardly have excited the animosity of a demon? Against that 
devilish spirit nothing avails, — neither virtue nor patriotism, 
nor age nor youth, nor conscience nor pity. We can not even 
say that education is a sufficient safeguard against this baleful 
evil, — ^for most of the wretches whose crimes have so shocked 
humanity in recent years were men not unlettered, who have 
gone from the common schools, through murder to the scaffold. 
The life of William McKinley was, from his birth to his death, 
typically American. There is no environment, I should say, 
anywhere else in the world which could produce just such a 
character. He was bom into that way of life which elsewhere is 
called the middle class, but which in this country is so nearly 
universal as to make of other classes an almost negligible quantity. 
He was neither rich nor poor, neither proud nor humble; he 
knew no hunger he was not sure of satisfying, no luxury which 
could enervate mind or body. His parents were sobo:. God- 
fearing .people; intelligent and upright, without pretension and 
without humility. He grew up in the company of boys like him- 
self, wholesome, honest, self-respecting. They looked down on 
nobody; they never felt it possible they could be looked down 
upon. Their houses were the homes of probity, piety, patriot- 
ism. They learned in the admirable school readers of fifty years 
ago the lessons of heroic and splendid life which have come down 
from the past. They read in their weekly newspapers the story 
of the world's progress, in which they were eager to take part, 
and of the sins and wrongs of civilization with which they burned 
to do battle. It was a serious and thoughtful time. The boys 
of that day felt dimly, but deeply, that days of sharp struggle 
and high achievement were before them. They looked at life 
with the wondering yet resolute eyes of a young esquire in his 
vigil of arms. They felt a time was coming when to them should 
be addressed the stem admonition of the Apostle, "Quit you like 
men; be strong." 

The men who are living to-day and were young in 1860 will 
never forget the glory and glamour that filled the earth and the 
sky when the long twilight of doubt and uncertainty was ending 
and the time for action had come. A speech bv Abraham Liacoln 
was an event not only of high morsu sig^nincance, but of far- 
reaching importance; the drillin|: of a militia company by Ells- 
worth attracted national attention; the fluttering <i the flag 


in the dear sky drew tears from the eyes of young men. Patriot- 
ism, which had been a rhetorical expression, became a passionate 
emotion, in which instinct, logic and feeling were fused. The 
country was worth saving; it could be saved only by fire; no 
saoifice was too great; the voung men of the cotmtry were ready 
for the sacrifice; come weal, come woe, they were ready. 

At seventeen years of age William McKinley heard this sum- 
mons of his country. He was the sort of youth to whom a 
military life in ordinary times would possess no attractions. His 
nature was far different from that of the ordinary soldier. He 
had other dreams of life, its prizes and pleasures, than that of 
marches and battles. But to his mind there was no choice or 
question. The banner floating in the morning breeze was the 
beckoning gesture of his country. The thrilling notes of the 
trumpet caUed him — ^him and none other — into the ranks. His 
portrait in his first uniform is familiar to vou all — ^the short, 
stocky figure; the quiet, thoughtful face; the deep, dark eyes. 
It is the face of a lad who could not stay at home when he thought 
he was needed in the field. He was of the stuff of which good 
soldiers are made. Had he been ten years older he would have 
entered at the head of a company and come out at the head of a 
division. But he did what he could. He enlisted as a private; 
he learned to obey. His serious, sensible ways, his prompt, alert 
efficiencv soon attracted the attention of his supenors. He was 
so faithful in little things that they gave him more and more to 
do. He was untiring in camp and on the march; swift, cool and 
fearless in fight. He left the army with field rank when the war 
ended, brevetted by President Lincoln for gallantry in battle. 

In coming years when men seek to draw the moral of our great 
Civil War, nothing will seem to them so admirable in all the 
history of our two magnificent armies as the way in which the 
war came to a dose. When the Confederate army saw the time 
had come, they acknowledged the pitiless logic of facts and ceased 
fighting. When the army of the Union saw it was no longer 
needed, without a murmur or question, making no terms, askmg 
no return, in the flush of victory and fulness of might, it laid 
down its arms and mdted back into the mass of peaceful dtizens. 
Tliere is no event since the nation was bom which has so proved 
its solid capadty for self-government. Both sections share 
equally in that crown of glory. They had hdd a debate of in- 
comparable importance and had fought it out with equal energy. 
A conclusion had been reached — and it is to the everlasting honor 
of both sides that they each knew when the war was over and the 
hour of a lasting peace had struck. We may admire the desperate 
daring of others who prefer annihilation to compromise, but the 
palm of common sense, and, I will say, of enlightened patriotism, 
bdongs to the men like Grant and Lee, who knew when they had 
fought enough for honor and for country. 


So it came naturally about that in 1876 — ^the beginning of the 
second oentuiy of the Republic — ^he began, by an election to 
Congress, his political career. Thereafter for fourteen years this 
chamber was his home. I use the word advisedly. Nowhere in 
the world was he so in harmony with his environment as here; 
nowhere else did his mind work with such full consciousness of 
its powers. The air of debate was native to him; here he drank 
delight of battle with his peers. In after da3rs, when he drove 
by this stately pile, or when on rare occasions his duty odled 
hun here, he grated his old haunts with the affectionate zest of 
a child of the house; during all the last ten years of his life, filled 
as they were with activity and glory, he never ceased to be home- 
sick for this hall. When he came to the presidency, there was 
not a day when his con^^ressional service was not of use to him. 
Probably no other president has been in such full and cordial 
communion with Congress, if we may except Lincoln alone. 
McKinley knew the legislative body thoroughly, its composi- 
tion, its methods, its habit of thought. He had the profoundest 
respect for its authority and an inflesdble belief in the ultimate 
rectitude of its purposes. Our history shows how surely an execu- 
tive courts disaster and ruin by assuming an attitude of hostility 
or distrust to the Legislature; and, on the other hand, Mc- 
Kinley's frank and sincere trust and confidence in Congress were 
repaid by prompt and loyal support and co6peration. During 
his entire term of office this mutual trust and regard — so essen- 
tial to the public welfare — ^was never shadowed by a single doud. 

When he came to the presidency he confronted a situation of 
the utmost difficulty, which might well have appalled a man of 
less serene and tranquil self-coimdence. There had been a state 
of profotmd commercial and industrial depression from which 
his friends had said his election would relieve the country. Our 
relations with the outside world left much to be desired. The 
feeling between the Northern and Southern sections of the Union 
was lacking in the cordiality which was necessary to the welfare 
of both. Hawaii had asked for annexation and had been rejected 
by the preceding administration. There was a state of things in 
the Caribbean which could not permanently endure. Our 
neighbor's house was on fire, and there were grave doubts as to 
our rights and duties in the premises. A man either weak or 
rash, either irresolute or headstrong, might have brought ruin 
on himself and incalculable luum to the coimtry. 

The least desirable form of glory to a man of his habitual mood 
and temper — that of successful war — ^was nevertheless conferred 
upon him by tmcontrollable events. He felt it must come; he 
deplored its necessity; he strained ahnost to breaking his rela- 
tions with his friends, in order, first to prevent and then to post- 
pone it to the latest possible moment. But when the die was 
cast, he labored with the utmost eneigy and ardor, and with an 


intelligence in militaxy matters which showed how much of the 
soldier still survived m the mature statesman, to push forward 
the war to a decisive dose. War was an anguish to him; he 
wanted it short and conclusive. His merciful zeal communicated 
itself to his subordinates, and the war, so long dreaded, whose 
consequences were so momentous, ended in a hundred days. 

Mr. McKinley was reelected by an overwhelming majority. 
There had been little doubt of the result among wdl-informed 
people, but when it was known, a profound feeling of relief and 
renewal of trust were evident among the leaders of capital and 
industry, not only in this country, but eveivwhere. They felt 
that the immediate future was secure, and that trade and com- 
merce might safely push forward in every field of effort and 

He felt that the harvest time was come, to gamer in the fruits 
of so much planting and culture, and he was determined that 
nothing he might do or say should be liable to the reproach of a 
personal interest. Let us say frankly he was a party man; he 
believed the policies advocated by him and his friends cotmted 
for much in the cotmtry's process and prosperity. He hoped 
in his second term to accomphsh substantial results in the de- 
velopment and affirmation of those policies. I spent a day with 
him shortly before he started on his fateful journey to Buffalo. 
Never had I seen him his/her in hope and patriotic confidence. 
He was gratified to the heart that we had arranged a treaty 
which gave us a free hand in the Isthmus. In fancy he saw the 
canal siready built and the argosies of the world passing through 
it in peace and amity. He saw in the immense evolution of 
American trade the fulfilment of all his dreams, the reward of 
all his labors. He was, I need not say, an ardent protectionist, 
never more sincere and devoted than during those last days of 
his life. He regarded reciprocity as the bulwark of protection — 
not a breach, but a fulfihnent of the law. The treaties which 
for four years had been preparing under his personal supervision 
he regarded as ancillary to the eeneral scheme. He was opposed 
to any revolutionary plan of change in the existing legi^tion; 
he was careful to point out that everything he had done was in 
faithful compliance with the law itself. 

In that mood of high hope, of generous expectation, he went 
to Buffalo, and there, on the threshold of eternity, he delivered 
that memorable speech, worthy for its loftiness of tone, its blame- 
less morality, its breadth of view, to be regarded as his testament 
to the nation. Through all his piide of country and his joy of its 
success runs the note of solemn warning, as in Kipling's noble 
hymn, "Lest We Forg6t." 

The next day sped the bolt of doom, and for a week after — in 
an agony of dread, broken by illusive glimpses of hope that our 
prayers might be answered — ^the nation waited for the end. 


Nothing in the glorious life we saw gradudlv waning was more 
admirable and exemplary than its close. Tne gentle humanity 
of his words when he saw his assailant in danger of summary 
vengeance, "Do not let them hurt him;" his chivalious caie 
that the news should be broken gently to his wife; the fine 
courtesy with which he apolqnzed for the damage whidi his 
death would bring to the great &hibition; and the heroic resigna- 
tion of his final words, "It is God's wa^; His will, not ours, be 
done,'* were all the instinctive expressions of a nature so lofty 
and so pure that pride in its nobility at once softened and en- 
hanced the nation's sense of loss. The Republic grieved over 
such a son, — ^but is proud forever of having produced him. After 
all, in roite of its tragic ending, his life was extraordinarily happy. 
He had, all his days, troops of friends, the cheer of fame and 
fruitful labor; and he became at last, 

"On fortune's crowning slope. 
The pillar of a people^s hope. 
The center of a world's desire." 



I offer no apology for speaking upon a religious theme, for it is 
the most universaTof all themes. I am interested in the science d 
government, but I am interested more in relieion than in govern- 
ment. I enjov making a political speech — I have made a good 
many and shall make more — ^but I would rather speak on rel^on 
than on politics. I commenced speaking on the stump when I 
was only twenty, but I commenced speaking in the church six 
years earlier — and I shall be in the church even after I am out 
of politics. I feel sure of my ground when I make a political 
speech, but I feel even more certain of my ground when I make 
a religious speech. If I addrest you upon the subject of law I 
might interest the lawyers; if I discust the science of medicine 
I might interest the physicians; in like manner merchants might 
be interested in comments on commerce, and farmers in matters 
pertaining to ^^culture; but no one of these subjects appeals 
to all. Elven the science of government, tho broader than any 
profession or occupation, does not embrace the whole sum of life, 
and those who think upon it differ so among themselves that I 
could not speak upon the subject so as to please a part of the 
audience without displeasing others. While to me the science 
of government is intcaisely ^>sorbing, I recognize that the most 

IJmd by penniMloii. 


importaiit things in life lie outside of the realm of government 
and that more depends upon what the individual does for himself 
than upon what the eovemment does or can do for him. Men 
can be miserable imder the best government and they can be 
happy imder the worst govemmnet. 

Government affects but a part of the life which we live here 
and does not deal at all with the life beyond, while rdigion 
touches the infinite circle of existence as weU as the small arc of 
that drde which we spend on earth. No greater theme, there- 
fore, can engage our attention. If I discuss questions of govern- 
ment I must secure the codperation of a majority before I can 
put my ideas into practise, but if, in speaking on religion, I can 
touch one htunan heart for good, I have not spoken m vain no 
matter how large the majority may be against me. 

Man is a religious being; the heart insttnctiveJv seeks for a 
God. Whether he worships on the banks of the Ganges, prays 
with his face upturned to the sun, kneels toward Mecca or, 
regarding all space as a temple, communes with the Heavenly 
Father according to the Christian creed, man is essentially devout. 

There are honest doubters whose sincerity we recognize and 
respect, but occasionally I find young men who think it smart 
to oe skeptical; they talk as if it were an evidence of larger in- 
telligence to scoff at creeds and to refuse to connect themselves 
with churches. They call themselves " Liberal," as if a Christian 
were narrow minded. Some go so far as to assert that 
the "advanced thought of the worid" has discarded the idea 
that there is a God. To these yoimg men I desire to address 

Even some older people profess to regard religion as a super- 
stition, pardonable in the ignorant but unworthy of the educated. 
Those who hold this view look down with mild contempt upon 
such as give to reli^on a definite place in their thoughts and lives. 
They assume an mtellectual superiority and often take little 
pains to conceal the assumption. Tolstoy administers to the 
*^' cultured crowd" (the words quoted are his) a severe rebuke 
when he declares that the religious sentiment rests not upon a 
superstitious fear of the invisible forces of nature, but upon man's 
consciousness of his finiteness amid an infinite universe and of 
his sinfulness; and this consciousness, the great philosopher 
adds, man can never outgrow. Tolstoy is right; man recc^gnizes 
how limited are his own powers and how vast is the universe, 
and he leans upon the arm that is stronger than his. Man 
feds the weight of his sins and looks for One who is sinless. 

Religion has been defined by Tolstoy as the relation which 
man mces between himself and his God, and morality as the 
outward manifestation of this inward relation. Every one, by 
the time he reaches maturity, has fixt some relation between 
himself and God and no material change in this relation can take 


place without a revoluticm in the man, for this rdation is the 
most potent influence that acts upon a human life. 

Religion is the foundation of moralitjr in the individual and 
in the group of individuals. Materialists have attempted to 
build up a system of morality upon the basis oi enlightened self- 
interest. They would have man figure out by mathematics that 
it pays him to abstain from wrong-doing; they would even 
inject an element of selfishness into altruism, but the moral 
system elaborated by the materialists has several defects. Fust, 
its virtues are borrowed from moral systems based upon religion. 
All those who are intelligent enough to discuss a system of 
morality are so saturated with the morals derived from systons 
resting upon religion that they cannot frame a S3^tem resting 
ttpon reason alone. Second, as it rests upon ai|;ument rather 
than upon authority, the young are not in a position to accept 
or reject. Our laws do not permit a young man to dispose of 
real estate until he is twenty-one. Why this restraint? Because 
his reason is not mature; and yet a man's life is largely moulded 
by the environment of his youth. Third, one never knows just 
how much of his decision is due to reason and how much is due 
to passion or to selfish interest. Passion can dethrone the reason 
— ^we recogmze this in our criminal laws. We also recognize the 
bias of self-interest when we exclude from the jury every man, 
no matter how reasonable or upright he may be, who has a 
pecuniary interest in the result of the trial. And, fourth, one 
whose morality rests upon a nice calculation of benefits to be 
secured spends time figuring that he should »)end in action. 
Those who keep a book account of their good deeds seldom do 
enough good to justify keeping books. A noble life cannot be 
built upon an arithmetic; it must be rather like the spring that 
pours forth constantly of that which refreshes and invigorates. 

Morality is the power of endurance in man; and a religion 
which teaches personal responsibility to God gives strength to 
morality. There is a powerful restraining influence in the belief 
that an all-seeing eye scrutinizes every thought and word and 
act of the individual. 

There is wide difference between the man who is trying to 
conform his life to a standard of morality about him and the man 
who seeks to make his life approximate to a divine standard. 
The former attempts to live up to the standard, if it is above him, 
and down to it, it it is below him — and if he is doing right only 
when others are looking he is sure to find a time when he thinks 
he is unobserved, and then he takes a vacation and falls. One 
needs the inner strength which comes with the conscious presence 
of a personal God. If those who are thus fortified sometimes 
yield to temptation, how helpless and hopeless must those be 
who rely upon their own strength alone! 

There are difficulties to be encountered in religion, but there 


are difficulties to be encountered everywhere. If Christians 
sometimes have doubts and fears, unbelievers have more doubts 
and greater fears. I passed through a period of skepticism when 
I was in coU^e and I have been glad ever since that I became a 
member of the church before I lett home for coll^[e, for it helped 
me during l^ose trying days. And the colle^ days cover the 
dangerous period in the young man's life; he is just coming into 
possession of his powers, and feels stroneer than he ever feds 
afterward — and he thinks he knows more than he ever does know. 

It was at this period that I became confused by the different 
theories of creation. But I examined these theories and found 
that they all assumed something to begin with. You can test 
this for yourselves. The nebular hypothesis, for instance, 
assumes that matter and force existed — matter in particles 
infinitely fine and each particle separated from eveiy other 
particle by space infinitely great. Beginning with this assump- 
tion, force working on matter — according to this hypothesis — 
created a universe. Well, I have a right to assume, and I pr^er 
to assume, a Designer back of the design — a Creator back of the 
creation; and no matter how long vou draw out the process of 
creation, so long as God stands back of it you cannot shake my 
faith in Jehovc^. In Genesis it is written that, in the beginning, 
God created the heavens and the earth, and I can stand on that 
proposition until I find some theory of creation that goes farther 
DBCK than "the beginning.'* We must be^ with something — 
we must start somewhere — and the Christian begins with G^. 

I do not carry the doctrine of evolution as far as some do; I 
am not yet convinced that man is a lineal descendant of the lower 
axiimals. I do not mean to find fault with you if you want to 
accept the theory; all I mean to say is that while you may trace 
your ancestry back to the monkey if you find pleasure or pride 
m doing so, you shall not connect me with your family tree with- 
out more evidence than has yet been produced. I oDJect to the 
theory for several reasons. First, it is a dangerous theory. If a 
man links himself in generations with the monkey, it then be- 
comes an important question whether he is going toward him or 
coming from him — and I have seen them going in both directions. 
I do not know of any argument that can be used to prove that 
man is an improved monkey that may not be used just as well 
to prove that the monkey is a degenerate man, and the latter 
theory is more plausible than the former. 

It is true that man, in some physical characteristics resembles 
the beast, but man has a mind as well as a body, and a soul as 
well as a mind. The mind is greater than the body and the soul 
is greater than the mind, and I object to having man's pedifi[ree 
tnu»d on one-third of him only — and that the lowest third. 
Fairbaim, in his " Philosophy of Christianity," lays down a sound 
proposition when he says that it is not sufficient to explain man as 


an animal; that it is necessary to ocplain man in history — and 
the Darwinian theory does not do this. The ape, aooording to 
this theory, is older than man and yet the ape is stfll an i^ 
while man is the author of the marvdous- civilization which we 
see about us. 

One does not escape from mystery, however, by accepting this 
theory, for it does not explain the origin of Ufe. When the fol- 
lower of Darwin has traced the germ of life back to the lowest 
form in which it appears — and to follow him one must exercise 
more faith than religion calls for — he finds that scientists differ. 
Those who reject the idea of creation are divided into two schools, 
some believing that the first germ of life came from another 
planet and others holding that it was the result of spontaneous 
generation. Bach school answers the arguments advanced by 
the other, and as they cannot agree with each other, I am not 
compelled to agree with either. 

If I were compelled to accept one of these theories I would 
prefer the first, for if we can chase the germ of life off th^ planet 
and get it out into space we can guess the rest of the way and 
no one can contradict us, but if we accept the doctrine of spon- 
taneous generation we cannot explain why spontaneous genera- 
tion ceased to act after the first germ was created. 

Go back as far as we may, we cannot escape from the creative 
act, and it is just as easy for me to believe that God created man 
as he is as to believe that, millions of years ago. He created a 
germ of life and endowed it with power to develop into all that 
we see to-day. I object to the Darwinian theory, until more 
conclusive proof is produced, because I fear we shall lose the 
consciousness of God s presence in our daily life, if we must accept 
the theory that through all the ages no spiritual force has toudied 
the life of man or shaped the destiny of nations. 

But there is another objection. The Darwinian theory repre- 
sents man as reaching his present perfection by the operation of 
the law of hate — the merciless law by which the strong crowd out 
and kill off the weak. If this is the law of our development then, 
if there is any logic that can bind the human mind, we shall turn 
backward toward the beast in proportion as we substitute the 
law of love. I prefer to believe that love rather than hatred is 
the law of development. How can hatred be the law of develop- 
ment when nations have advanced in proportion as they have 
departed from that law and adopted the law of love? 

But, I repeat, while I do not accept the Darwinian theory I 
shall not quarrel with you about it; I only refer to it to remmd 
you that it does not solve the mystery of life or explain human 
progress. I fear that some have accepted it in the hope of escap- 
ing from the miracle, but why should the miracle mghten us? 
And yet I am inclined to think that it is one of the test questions 
with the Christian. 


Christ cannot be separated from the miraculous; His birth* 
His ministrations, and His resurrection, all involve the miracu- 
lous, and the change which His religion works in the human heart 
is a continuing mirade. Eliminate the miracles and Christ 
becomes merely a human being and His gospel is stript of divine 

The miracle raises two questions: "Can God perform a 
miracle?" and, "Would He want to?*' The first is easy to an- 
swer. A God who can make a world can do anything He wants 
to do with it. The power to perform miracles is necessarily 
implied in the power to create. But would God want to perform 
a miracle? — this is the question which has siven most of the 
trouble. The more I have considered it the less inclined I am 
to answer in the negative. To say that God would not perform 
a miracle is to assume a more intimate knowledge of GocTs plans 
and purposes than I can claim to have. I will not deny that God 
does perform a miracle or may perform one merely because I do 
not Imow how or why He does it. I find it so difficult to decide 
each day what God wants done now that I am not presumptuous 
enough to attempt to declare what God might have wanted to 
do thousands of ^rears ago. The fact that we are constantly 
learning of the existence of new forces suggests the possibility 
that God may operate through forces yet unknown to us, and 
tiie mysteries with which we deal every day warn me that faith 
is as necessary as sight. Who would have credited a centmy ago 
the stories that are now told of the wonder-working electricity? 
For ages man had known the lightning, but only to fear it; now, 
this invisible current is generated by a man-made machine, im- 
prisoned in a man-made wire and made to do the bidding of 
man. We are even able to dispense with the wire and hurl words 
through space, and the X-ray has enabled us to look through 
substances which were supposed, until recently, to exclude all 
light. The miracle is not more mysterious than many of the 
things with which man now deals — it is simply different. The 
miraculous birth of Christ is not more mysterious than any other 
conception — it is simply unlike it; nor is the resurrection of 
Christ more mysterious than the myriad resurrections whidi 
mark each annual seed-time. 

It is sometimes said that God could not suspend one of His 
laws without stopping the universe, but do we not susj^d or 
overcome the law of gravitation every day? Every time we 
move a foot or lift a weight we temporarily overcome one of the 
most universal of naturallaws and yet the world is not disturbed. 

Science has taught us so man^r things that we are tempted to 
conclude that we know everytning, but there is really a great 
unknown which is still unexplored and that which we have learned 
ought to increase our reverence rather than our egotism. Science 
has disclosed some of the machinery of the universe, but science 

454 T^^^ ^^^ ^^ PUBLIC SPEAKING 

has not yet revealed to us the |reat secret — ^the secret of life. 
It is to be found in every blade ol grass, in every insect, in every 
bird and in every animal, as weU as in man. Six thousand years 
of recorded history and yet we know no more about the secret 
of life than they knew in the begioning. We live, we plan; we 
have our hopes, our fears; and yet in a moment a change may 
come over anyone of us and this body will become a mass of life- 
less clay. What is it that, having, we live, and havii^ not, we 
are as the dod? The prc^;ress of the race and the ctvilizatioo 
which we now behold are the work of men and women who have 
not yet solved the mystery of their own lives. 

And our food, must we understand it before we eat it? If we 
refused to eat anythixu; until we could imderstand the mystery 
of its growth, we would die of starvation. But mystery does not 
bother us in the dining-room; it is only in the church that it is a 
stumbling blodc. 

I was eating a piece of watermelon some months ago and was 
struck with its beauty. I took some of the seeds and dried them 
and weighed them, and found that it would require some five 
thousand seeds to weigh a pound; and then I applied mathe- 
matics to that forty-pound melon. One of these seeds, put into 
the ground, when warmed by the sun and moistened by the rain, 
takes off its coat and go^ to work; it gathers from somewhere 
two hundred thousand times its own weight, and forcing this 
raw material throu^^h a tiny stem, constructs a watermelon. It 
ornaments t^e outside with a covering of green; inside the green 
it puts a layer of white, and within the white a core of red, and 
all through the red it scatters seeds, each one capable of continu- 
ing the work of reproduction. Where does that little seed get 
its tremendous power? Where does it find its coloring; matter? 
How does it collect its flavoring extract? How does it build a 
watermelon? UntU you can explain a watermelon, do not be 
too sure that you can set limits to the power of the Almif hty and 
say just what He would do or how lie would do it. I caxmot 
explain the watermelon, but I eat it and enjoy it. 

The egg is the most universal of foods and its use dates from 
the beginning, but what is more mysterious than an e^? When 
an effg is fresh it is an important article of merchandise; a hen 
can destroy its market value in a week's time, but in two weeks 
more she can bring forth from it what man could not find in it. 
We eat eggs, but we cannot explain an egg. 

Water ^s been used from the birth ofman; we learned after 
it had been used for ages that it is merely a mixture of gases, but 
it is far more important that we have water to drink than that 
we know that it is not water. 

Everything that grows tells a like story of infinite power. 
Why should I deny that a divine hand fed a multitude with a 
few loaves and fishes when I see hundreds of millions fed every 


^ear by a hand which converts the seeds scattered over the field 
into an abundant harvest? We know that food can be multiplied 
in a few months' time; shall we deny the power of the Creator 
to eliminate the element of time, when we have gone so fcur in 
<>lfTwinftting the element of apace? Who am I that I should 
attempt to measure the arm of the Almighty with my puny arm, 
or to measure the brain of the Infinite with mv finite mmd? Who 
am I that I should attempt to put metes and bounds to the power 
of the Creator? 

But there is something even more wonderful still — ^the mysteri- 
ous change that takes place in the hiunan heart when the man 
b^;ins to hate the thixigs he loved and to love the things he hated 
— ^the marvelous transformation that takes place in the man who, 
before the chuige, would have sacrificed a world for his own 
advancement but who, after the change, would give his life for 
a principle and esteem it a privilege to make sacrifice for his 
convictions 1 What greater miracle than this, that converts a 
seLQsh, self -centered hiunan being into a center from which good 
influences flow out in every direction! And yet this miracle has 
been wrought in the heart of each one of us — or may be wrought 
— and we nave seen it wrought in the hearts and fives of those 
about us. No, living a life that is a mystery, and living in the 
nddst of mvstery and miracles, I shall not allow either to deprive 
me of the benefits of the Christian religion. If you ask me if I 
tmderstand everything in the Bible, I answer, no, but if we will 
try to live up to what we do understand, we will be kept so busy 
doing good that we will not have time to worry about the pas- 
sages which we do not understand. 

Some of those who question the miracle also question the 
theory of atonement; they assert that it does not accord with 
their idea of justice for one to die for all. Let each one bear his 
own sins and the punishments due for them, they say. The 
doctrine of vicarious suffering is not a new one; it is as old as the 
race. That one should suffer for others is one of the most familiar 
of principles and we see the principle illustrated every day of 
our lives. Take the family, for instance; from the day the 
mother's first child is bom, for twentv or thirty years her children 
are scarcely out of her waking thoughts. Her life trembles in the 
balance at each child's birth; she sacrifices for them, she sur- 
renders herself to them. Is it because she expects them to pay 
her back? Fortunate for the parent and fortunate for the child 
if the latter has an opportunity to repay in part the debt it owes. 
But no child can compensate a parent for a parent's care. In 
the course of nature the debt is paid, not to the parent, but to 
the next generation, and the next — each generation suffering, 
sacrificing for and surrendering itself to the generation that fol- 
lows. This is the law of our lives. 

Nor is this confined to the family. Every step in civilization 


has been made possible by those who have been willing to sacri- 
fice for posterity. Freedom of speech, freedom of the press, free- 
dom of consdenoe and free government have all been won for 
the world by those who were willing to labor unselfishly for their 
fellows. So well established is this aoctrine that we do not regard 
anyone as great unless he recognizes how unimportant his iSe is 
in comparison with the problems with which he deals. 

I find proof that man was made in the image of his Creator 
in the fact that, throughout the centuries, man has been willing 
to die, if necessary, that blessings denied to him might be enjoyed 
by his children, his children's children and the worid. 

The seeming paradox: "He that saveth his life shall lose it 
and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it," has an appli- 
cation wider than that usually given to it; it is an epitome of 
history. Those who live only for themselves live little lives, but 
those who stand ready to give themselves for the advancement 
of things greater than themselves find a larger life than the one 
they would have surrendered. Wendell PhiUips gave expression 
to the same idea when he said, "What imprudent men the bene- 
factors of the race have been. How prudently most men sink 
into nameless |^raves, while now and then a few forget themselves 
into immortahty." We win immortality, not by remembering 
ourselves, but by forgetting ourselves in devotion to things larger 
than ourselves. 

Instead of being an urmatural plan, the plan of salvation is in 

gerfect harmony with htunan nature as we understand it. Sacri- 
ce is the language of love, and Christ, in suffering for the world, 
adopted the only means of reaching the heart. This can be 
demonstrated not onl^ by theory but by experience, for the story 
of His life, His teachmgs. His sufferings and His death has been 
translated into every Gmguage and everywhere it has touched 
the heart. 

But if I were going to present an argument in favor of the 
divinitv of Christ, I would not b^[in with miracles or mjrstery 
or with the theory of atonement. I would heg}n as Carnegie 
Simpson does in his book entitled, "The Pact of Christ." Com- 
mencing with the undisputed fact that Christ lived, he points 
out that one cannot contemplate this fact without feding that in 
some wav it is related to those now living. He says that one can 
read of Alexander, of Ceesar or of Napoleon, and not feel that it 
is a matter of personal concern; but that when one reads that 
Christ lived, and how He lived and how He died, he feels that 
somehow there is a cord that stretches from that life to his. As 
he studies the character of Christ he becomes conscious of cer- 
tain virtues which stand out in bold relief — His purity. His for- 
giving spirit, and His unfathomable love. The author is correct. 
Christ presents an example of purity in thought and life, and 
man, conscious of his own imperfections and grieved over his 


shortcomings, finds inspiration in the fact that He was tempted 
in all points like as we are, and yet without sin. I am not sure 
but that each can find just here a way of determining for himself 
whether he possesses the true spirit of a Christian. If the sin- 
lessness of Christ inspires within him an earnest desire to con- 
form his life more nearly to the perfect example, he is indeed a 
follower; if, on the other hand, he resents the reproof which the 
purity of Christ offers, and refuses to mend his ways, he has yet 
to be bom again. 

The most difficult of all the virtues to cultivate is the forgiving 
spirit. Revenge seems to be natural with man; it is human to 
want to get even with an enemy. It has even been popular to 
boast of vindictiveness; it was once inscribed on a man's monu- 
ment that he had repaid both friends and enemies more than he 
had received. This was not the spirit of Christ. He taught for- 
giveness and in that incomparable prayer which He left as 
model for our petitions, He made our willingness to foigive the 
measure by which we may claim forgiveness. He not only taught 
forgiveness but He exemplified His .teachings in His life. When 
those who persecuted Him brought Him to the most disgraceful 
of all deaths, His spirit of forgiveness rose above His sufferings 
and He prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
they dor 

But love is the foimdation of Christ's creed. The world had 
known love before; parents had loved their children, and children 
their parents; husbands had loved their wives, and wives their 
husbands; and friend had loved friend; but Jesus gave a new 
definition of love. His love was as wide as the sea; its limits were 
so far-flung that even an enemy could not travel beyond its 
bounds. Other teachers sought to regulate the lives of their fol- 
lowers by rule and formula, but Clum's plan was to purify the 
heart and then to leave love to direct the footsteps. 

What conclusion is to be drawn from the life, the teachings and 
the death of this historic figure? Reared in a carpenter shop; 
with no knowledge of literature, save Bible literature; with no 
acquaintance wi& philosophers living or with the writings of 
sages dead, when only about thirty years old He gathered disciples 
alKnit Him, promulgated a higher code of morals than the world 
had ever known bdfore, and proclaimed Himself the Messiah. 
He taught and performed miracles for a few brief months and 
then was crucified; His disciples were scattered and many of 
them put to death; His claims were disputed. His resurrection 
denied and His followers persecuted; and yet from this beginning 
His relijgfion spread until himdreds of millions have taken His 
name with reverence upon their lips and millions have been willing 
to die rather than surrender the faith which He put into their 
hearts. How shall we account for Hii^? Here is the greatest 
fact of history; here is One who has with increasing power, for 

458 ^raE AKT OF Public speaking 

nineteen hundred years, moulded the hearts, the thoughts and 
the lives of men, and He exerts more influence to-day tnan ever 
before. "What think ye of Christ? " It is easier to believe Him 
divine than to explain in any other way what he said and did 
and was. And I have greater faith, even than before, since I 
have visited the Orient and witnessed the successful contest which 
Christianity is waging against the religions and philosoplues of 
the Bast. 

I was thinking a few years ago of the Christmas which was then 
approaching and of Hmi in whose honor the dav is cel^rated. 
I recalled the message, "Peace on earth, good wiU to men," and 
then my thoughts ran back to the ptrophecy uttered centuries 
before His birth, in which He was describe as the Prince of Peace. 
To reinforce my memory I re-read the prophecy and I found 
inmiediately following a verse which I had forgotten — a verse 
which declares that <^the increase of His peace and government 
there shall be no end, And, Isaiah adds, that He shafl jud^ His 
people with justice and with judgment. I had been readmg of 
the rise and fall of nations, and occasionally I had met a gloomy 
philosopher who preached the doctrine that nations, lilre indi- 
viduals, must of necessity have their birth, their infancy, their 
maturity and finally their decay and death. But here I read of a 
government that is to be perpetual — a government of increasing 
peace and blessedness — ^the government of the Prince of Peace — 
and it is to rest on justice. I have thought of this prophecy many 
times during the last few years, and I have selected this theme 
that I might present some of the reasons which lead me to believe 
that Christ has fully earned the right to be called The Prince of 
Peace — a title that will in the years to come be more and more 
applied to Him. If he can bring peace to each individual heart, 
and if His creed when applied will bring peace throughout the 
earth, who will deny His right to be called the Prince ol Peace? 

All the world is in search of peace; every heart that ever beat 
has sought for peace, and many have been the methods employed 
to secure it. Some have thought to purchase it with riches and 
have labored to secure wealth, hoping to find peace when they 
were able to go where they pleased and buy what they liked. Ctf 
those who have endeavored to pttrchase peace with money, the 
large majority have failed to secure the money. But what has 
been the experience of those who have been eminently successful 
in finance? They all tell the same story, viz., that they spent 
the first half of their lives trying to get money from others and 
the last half trying to keep others from getting their money, and 
that they found peace in neither half. Some nave even r^iched 
the point where they find difficulty in getting people to accept 
their money; and I know of no better mdication of the ethiod 
awakening m this country than the increasing tendency to scruti- 
nize the methods of money-making. I am sanguine enough to 


beiieve that the time will yet come when respectability will no 
longer be sold to great criminals by helping them to spend their 
ill-gotten gains. A long step in advance will have been taken 
when religious, educational and charitable institutions refuse to 
condone conscienceless methods in business and leave the pos- 
sessor of illegitimate accumulations to learn how lonely hie is 
when one prefers money to morals. 

Some have sought peace in social distinction, but whether they 
have been within the charmed circle and fearful lest they might 
fall out, or outside, and hopeftd that they might get in, they have 
not found peace. Some have thought, vam mought, to find 
peace in pohtical prominence; but whether office comes by birth, 
as in monarchies, or by election, as in republics, it does not bring 
peace. An office is not considei^ a hign one if all can occupy it. 
tyoly when few in a generation can hope to enjoy an honor do we 
call it a great honor. I am glad that our Heavenly Father did 
not make the peace of the human heart to depend upon our 
ability to buy it with money, secure it in societjr, or win it at the 

g>lls, for in either case but few could have obtained it, but when 
e niade peace the reward of a conscience void of offense toward 
God and man. He put it within the reach of all. The poor can 
secure it as easily as the rich, the social outcasts as freely as tiie 
leader of society, and the humblest citizen equally with those who 
wield political power. 

To those who have grown gra^r in the Church, I need not speak 
of the peace to be found in faith in God and trust in an overruHng 
Providence. Christ taught that our Uves are precious in the 
sight of God, and poets have taken up the thought and woven it 
into immortal verse. No uninspired writer has exprest it more 
beautifully than William Cullen Bryant in his Ode to a Water- 
fowl. After following the wanderings of the bird of passage as 
it seeks first its southern and then its northern home, he con- 

Thou art gone; the abyss of heaven 

Hath swallowed up thy form, but on my heart 

Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 
i^d shall not soon depart. 

He who, from zone to zone. 

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
In the long way tnat I must tread alone. 

Will lead my steps aright. 

Christ promoted peace by giving us assurance that a line of 
communication can be establi^ed between the Father above and 
the chQd below. And who will measure the consolations of the 
hour of prayer? 

/ 46o 


And immortality! Who will estimate the peace which a belief 
in a futufe life has brought to the sorrowinff hearts of the sons 
of men? You may talk to the young about death ending all, for 
life is full and hope is strong, but preach not this doctrine to the 
mother who stands by the death-bed of her babe or to one who 
is within the shadow of a great affliction. When I was a young 
man I wrote to Colonel Ingersoll and asked him for his views on 
Grod and immortality. His secreta^ answered that the great 
infidel was not at home, but endosed a copy of a speech of C6L 
Ingersoll's which covered my question. I scanned it with eager- 
ness and found that he haud exprest himself about as follows: 
** I do not say that there is no God, I simply say I do not know. 
I do not say that there is no life beyond the grave, I simply say 
I do not know." And from that day to this I have asked mysdf 
the question and have been unable to answer it to my own satis- 
faction, how could anyone find pleasure in taking from a human 
heart a living faith and substituting therefor the cold and cheer- 
less doctrine, " I do not know." 

Christ gave us proof of immortality and it was a weloome 
assurance, altho it would hardly seem necessary that one should 
rise from the dead to convince us t^t the grave is not the end. 
To every created thing God has given a tongue that proclaims 
a future life. 

If the Father deigns to touch with divine power the cold and 
pulseless heart of the buried acorn and to make it burst forth 
from its prison walls, will he leave neglected in the earth the soul 
of man, made in the imaf[e of his Creator? If he stoops to give 
to the rose bush, whose withered blossoms float upon the autumn 
breeze, the sweet assurance of another springtime, will He refuse 
the words of hope to the sons of men when the frosts of winter 
come? If matter, mute and inanimate, tho changed by the forces 
of nature into a multitude of forms, can never die, will the im- 
perial spirit of man suffer annihilation when it has paid a brief 
visit like a royal guest to this tenement of day? No, I am sure 
that He who, notwithstanding his apparent prodigality, created 
nothing without a purpose, and wasted not a sinjgle atom in all 
his creation, has made provision for a future life in which man's 
universal longing for immortality will find its realization. I am 
as sure that we hve again as I am sure that we live to-day. 

In Cairo I secured a few grains of wheat that had slumbered 
for more than thirty centuries in an £^|yptian tomb. As I looked 
at them this thought came into my mmd: If one of those grains 
had been planted on the banks of the Nile the year after it grew, 
and all its lineal descendants had been planted and r^lonted 
from that time until now, its prc^eny would to-dav be sufficiently 
numerous to feed the teeming miSions of the world. An unbrc^en 
chain of life connects the earliest grains of wheat with the grains 
that we sow and reap. There is in the grain of wheat an invisible 


somethine which has power to discard the body that we see, and 
from eami and air fashion a new body so mudi like the old one 
that we cannot tell the one from the other. If this invisible germ 
d life in the min at wheat can thus pass unimpaired thxough 
three thousana resurrections, I shall not doubt that my soul mis 
power to clothe itself with a body suited to its new existence when 
this earthly frame has crumbled into dust. 

A belief in immortality not only consoles the individual, but 
it exerts a powerful influence in bringing peace between in- 
dividuals. If one actually thinks that man dies as the brute 
dies, he will yield more easSly to the temptation to do injustice 
to his neighbor when the circumstances are such as to promise 
security from detection. But if one really expects to meet again, 
and live eternally with, those whom he knows to-day, he is 
restrained from evil deeds by the fear of endless remorse. We do 
not know what rewards are in store for us or what punishments 
may be reserved, but if there were no other it would be some 
punishment for one who deliberately and consciously wrongs 
another to have to live forever in the company of the person 
wronged and have his littleness and selfishness laid bare. I 
repeat, a belief in immortality mtist exert a powerful ix^uence 
in establishing justice between men and thus laying the founda- 
tion for peace. 

Again, Christ deserves to be called The Prince of Peace because 
He has given us a measure of greatness whidi promotes peace. 
When Ills disciples quarreled among themselves as to wMdi 
should be greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven, He rebuked them 
and said: "Let him who would be chief est among you be the 
servant of all." Service is the measure of greatness; it always 
has been true ; it is true to-day, and it always will be true, that 
he is greatest who does the most of good. And how this old world 
will he transformed when this standard of greatness becomes the 
standard of every life! Nearly all of our controversies and com- 
bats grow out of the fact that we are trying to get something from 
each other — ^there will be peace when our aim is to do something 
for each other. Our enmities and animosities arise laigely from 
our efiforts to get as much as possible out of the world — ^there will 
be peace when our endeavor is to put as much as possible into 
the world. The human measure of a human life is its income; 
the divine measure of a life is its outgo, its overflow — its contribu- 
tion to the welfare of all. 

Christ also led the way to peace by giving us a formula for the 
propagation of truth. Not all of those who have really desired 
to do good have employed the Christian method — not all Chris- 
tians even. In the history of the human race but two methods 
have been used. The first is the forcible method, and it has been 
employed most frequently. A man has an idea which he thinks 
is good; he tells his neighbors about it and they do not like it. 


This makes him ansTy; he thinks it would be so much better for 
them if they would uke it, and, seizing a dub, he attempts to 
make them like it. But one trouble about thk rule is that it 
works both ways; when a man starts out to compel his neighbors 
to think as he does, he generally finds them willing to accept the 
challenge and they spend so much time in trjring to coerce each 
other that they have no time left to do each other good. 

The other is the Bible plan — "Be not overcome of evil but 
overcome evil with good.'* And there is no other way of over- 
coming evil. I am not much of a farmer — I get more credit for 
mv farming than I deserve, and mv little farm receives more 
advertising than it is entitled to. iSut I am farmer enough to 
know that if I cut down weeds they will spring up again; and 
farmer enough to know that if I plant something there which 
has more vitality than the weeds I shall not only get rid of the 
constant cutting, but have the benefit of the crop besides. 

In order that there might be no mistake in His plan c^ propa- 
gating the truth, Christ went into detail and laid emphasis upon 
the "^^ue of example — "So live that others seeing your ^ood 
works may be constrained to glorify your Father whidi is in 
Heaven." There is no human influence so potent for good as 
that which goes out from an upright life. A sermon may be 
answered; the arguments presented in a speech may be disputed, 
but no one can answer a Christian life — it is the unanswerable 
argument in favor of our rdigion. 

It may be a slow process — this conversion of the world by the 
silent influence of a noble example — ^but it is the only sure one, 
and the doctrine applies to nations as wdl as to individuals. The 
Gospel of the Prince of Peace fives us the only hope that the 
world has — and it is an increasmg hope — of the substitution of 
reason for the arbitrament of force in the settlement of interna- 
tional disputes. And our nation ought not to wait for other 
nations — it ought to take the lead and prove its faith in the 
omnipotence of truth. 

But Christ has given us a platform so fundamental that it 
can be applied successfully to all controversies. We are interested 
in platforms; we attend conventions, sometimes traveling long 
distances; we have wordy wars over the phraseology of various 
planks, and then we wage earnest campaigns to secure the 
endorsement of these platforms at the polls. The platform given 
to the world by The Prince of Peace is more far-reaching and 
more comprehensive than any platform ever written by the con- 
vention of anv party in any cotmtry. When He condensed into 
one commandment those of the ten which relate to man's duty 
toward his fellows and enjoined upon us the rule, "Thou shaft 
love thy neighbor as thyself," He presented a plan for the solu- 
tion of all the problems that now vex society or may hereafter 
arise. Other remedies may palliate or postpone the day of set- 


tlement, but this is all-sufficient and the reconciliation which it 
effects is a permanent one. 

My faith in the future — and I have faith — and my optimism — 
for I am an optimist — my faith and my optimism rest upon the 
bdief that Christ's teachmgs are being more studied to-day than 
ever before, and that with this larger studv will come a larger 
application of those teachings to the everydiay life of the wond, 
and to the questions with which we deal. In former times when 
men read that Christ came "to bring life and immortality to 
light," they placed the emphasis upon immortality; now they 
are studying Christ's relation to htmian life. People used to read 
the Bible to find out what it said of Heaven; now they read it 
more to find what light it throws upon the pathway of to-day. 
In former years many thought to prepare themselves for future 
bliss by a hfe of seclusion here; we are learning that to follow in 
the footsteps of the Master we must go about doing good. Christ 
declared that He came that we might have life and have it more 
abtmdantly. The world is learning that Christ came not to 
narrow life, but to enlarge it — not to rob it of its joy, but to fill 
it to overflowing with purpose, earnestness and happiness. 

But this Prince of Peace promises not onlv peace but strength. 
Some have thought His teachings fit only for the weak and the 
timid and unsuitod to men of vigor, energv and ambition. Noth- 
ing could be farther from the truth. Omy the man of faith can 
be courageous. Confident that he fights on the side of Jehovah, 
he doubts not the success of his cause. What matters it whether 
he shares in the shouts of triumph? If every word spoken in 
behalf of truth has its influence and every deed done for the ri^ht 
weighs in the final account, it is immaterial to the Christian 
wh^er his eyes behold victory or whether he dies in the midst 
of the conflict. 

"Yea, tho thou lie upon the dust, 

When they who helped thee flee in fear. 
Die full of hope and manly trust. 

Like those who fell in battle here. 

Another hand thy sword shall wield. 
Another hand the standard wave, 

Till from the trumi)et's mouth is pealed. 
The blast of triumph o'er thy grave." 

Only those who believe attempt the seemingly impossible, and, 
by attempting, prove that one, with God, can chase a thousand 
and that two can put ten thousand to flight. I can imagine that 
the early Christians who were carried into the coliseum to make 
a spectacle for those more savage than the beasts, were entreated 
by their doubting companions not to endanger their lives. But, 


Imftftling in the center of the arena, they prayed and sang until 
they were devoured. How helpless they seemed, and, measured 
b^ every htmian rule, how hopeless was their cause! And yet 
within a few decades the power which they invoked proved 
mightier than the legions of the emperor and the faith in which 
they died was triumphant o*er all the land. It is said that those 
who went to mock at their sufferings returned asking themselves, 
"What is it that can enter into the heart of man and make him 
die as these die?" They were greater conquerors in their death 
than th^ could have been had they purchased life by a surrender 
of their faith. 

What would have been the fate of the church if the early 
Christians had had as little faith as many of our Christians cl 
to-day? And if the Christians of to-day had the faith of the 
marl^TS, how long would it be before the fulfilment of the 
prophecy that "every knee shall bow and every tongue confess?" 

I am glad that He, who is called the Prince of Peace — ^who can 
bring peace to every troubled heart and whose teachings, exem- 
plified in life, will bring peace between man and man, between 
community and commumty, between State and State, between 
nation and nation throughout the world — I am glad that He 
brings courage as well as peace so that those who follow Him mav 
take up and each day bravely do the duties that to that day falL 

As the Christian grows older he appreciates more and more 
the completeness with which Christ satisfies the longings of the 
heart, and, grateful for the peace which he enjoys and for the 
strength which he has received, he repeats the words of the great 
scholar, Sir William Jones: 

"Before thy mystic altar, heavenly truth, 

I kned in manhood, as I knelt in youth. 
Thus let me kneel, till this dull form decay, 

And life's last shade be brightened by thy ray." 



Delivered at Dartmouth College, July 27, 1853. 

Webster possessed the element of an impressive character, 
in^iring re^urd, trust and admiration, not unmingled with love. 
It had, I think, intrinsically a charm such as belong only to a 
good, noble, and beautiful nature. In its combination with so 
much fame, so much force of wiU, and so much intellect, it filled 
and fascinated the imagination and heart. It was affectionate 
in childhood and youth, and it was more than ever so in the few 
last months of his lon^ life. It is the universal testimony that 
he gave to his parents, m largest measure, honor, love, obedienoe; 


that he eagerly appropriated the first means which he could com- 
mand to lelieve the father from the debts contracted to educate 
his brother and himself; that he selected his first place of pro- 
fessional practice that he might soothe the coming on of his old 

Equally beautiful was his love of all his kindred and of all his 
friends. When I hear him accused of selfishness, and a cold, bad 
nature, I recall him lying sleepless all night, not without tears 
of boyhood, conferring with Ezeldel how the darling desire of 
both nearts should be compassed, and he, too, admitted to the 
precious privileges of education; courageously pleading the 
cause of both brothers in the morning; prevaihng bv the wise 
and discerning affection of the mother; suspending his studies 
of the law, and roistering deeds and teaching schocd to earn the 
means, for both, of availing themselves of the opportunity which 
the parental self-sacrifice had placed within theu* reach; loving 
hmi through life, mourning hun when dead, with a love and a 
sorrow very wonderful, passing the sorrow of woman; I recall 
the husband, the father of the living and of the early departed, 
the friend, the counselor of many years, and my heart grows too 
full and liquid for the refutation of words. 

His affectionate nature, craving ever friendship, as well as the 

Sresence of Idndred blood, diffused itself through all his private 
fe, gave sincerity to all his hospitalities, Idndness to his eye, 
warmth to the pressure of his hand, made his greatness and 
genius tmbend themselves to the playfulness of childhood, flowed 
out in graceful memories indulged of the past or the dead, of 
incidents when life was young and promised to be happy,— |^ve 
generous sketches of his rivals, — ^the high contention now hidden 
by the handful of earth, — hours passed fifty years ago with great 
authors, recalled for the vernal emotions which then they made 
to live and revd in the soul. And from these conversations of 
friendship, no man — no man, old or youn^ — ^went away to re- 
member one word of profaneness, one allusion of indelicacy, one 
impure thought, one tmbelieving suggestion, one doubt cast on 
the reality of virtue, of patriotism, of enthusiasm, of the progress 
of man, — one doubt cast on righteousness, or temperance, or 
judgment to come. 

I have learned by evidence the most direct and satisfactory 
that in the last months of his life, the whole affectionateness of 
his nature — his consideration of others, his gentleness, his desire 
to make them happy and to see them happy — seemed to come 
out in more and more beautiful and habitual expressions than 
ever before. The lon^ day's public tasks were fdt to be done; 
the cares, the uncertamties, the mental conflicts of high place, 
were ended; and he came home to recover himself for the few 
years which he might stiU expect would be his before he should 
go hence to be here no more. And there, I am assured and duly 


believe, no unbecoming regrets pursued him; no discontent, as 
for injustice suffered or expectations unfulfilled; no self-reproach 
for anything done or anything omitted by himself; no irritation, 
no peevishness tmworthy of his noble nature; but instead, love 
and hope for his countzy, when she became the subject of con- 
versation, and for all around him, the dearest and most indif- 
ferent, for all breathing; things about him, the overflow of the 
Idndest heart growing m gentleness and benevolence — paternal, 
patriarchal affections, seeming to become more natural, warm, 
and communicative every hour. Softer and yet brighter grew 
the tints on the sky of parting day; and the last lingering rays, 
more even than the glories of noon, annotmced how divine was 
the source from which they proceeded; how incapable to be 
quenched ; how certain to rise on a morning which no night should 

Such a character was made to be loved. It was loved. Those 
who knew and saw it in its hour of calm — ^those who could repose 
on that soft green — Gloved him. His plain neighbors loved him; 
and one said, when he was laid in his grave, "How lonesome the 
world seems!" Educated yotmg men loved him. The ministers 
of the gospel, the general intell^;ence of the country, the masses 
afar off, loved him. True, they had not found in his speeches, 
read by millions, so much adulation of the people; so much of 
the music which robs the public reason of itself; so many phrases 
of humanity and philanthropy; and some had told them he was 
lofty and cold — solitary in ins greatness; but every year they 
came nearer and nearer to him, and as they came nearer, they 
loved him better; they heard how tender the son had been, the 
husband, the brother, the father, the friend, and neighbor; that 
he was plain, simple, natural, generous, hospitable — ^the heart 
larger tl^ the brain; that he loved little diildren and rever- 
ent^ God, the Scriptures, the Sabbath-day, the Constitution, 
and the law — and their hearts dave unto him. More truly of 
him than even of the great naval darling of England mi^ht it be 
said that "his presence would set the church bells ringmg, and 
give schoolboys a holiday, would bring children from school and 
old men from the chimney-comer, to gaze on him ere he died." 
The great and unavailing lamentations first revealed the deep 
place he had in the hearts of his countrymen. 

You are now to add to this his extraordinary power of in- 
fluencing the convictions of others by speech, and you have com- 
pleted the survey of the means of his greatness. And here, again, 
I begin by admiring an aggregate made up of excellences and 
triumphs, ordinarily deemed incompatible. He spoke with con- 
summate ability to the bench, and jret exactly as, according to 
every sound canon of taste and ethics, the bench ought to be 
addressed. He spoke with consummate ability to the jury, and 
yet exactly as, according to every sound canon, that totally 


different tribtinal ought to be addressed. In the halls of Congress, 
before the people assembled for political discussion in masses, 
before audiences smaller and more select, assembled for some 
solemn commemoration of the past or of the dead — in each of 
these, again, his speech, of the nrst form of ability, was exactly 
adapted, also, to the critical properties of the place; each 
achieved, when delivered, the most instant and specific success of 
eloquence — some of them in a splendid and remarkable degree; 
and ^et, stranger still, when reduced to writing, as they fell from 
his hps, they compose a body of reading in many volumes — solid, 
dear, rich, and full of harmony — a classical and permanent 
political literature. 

And yet all these modes of his eloquence, exactly adapted each 
to its stage and its end, were stamped with his image and super- 
scription, identified by characteristics incapable to be counter- 
feited and impossible to be mistaken. The same high power of 
reason, intent in every one to explore and display some truth; 
some truth of judicial, or historical, or biographiod fact; some 
truth of law, deduced by construction, perhaps, or by illation; 
some truth of policy, for want whereof a nation, generations, may 
be the worse — reason seeking and unfolding truth; the same 
tone, in all, of deep earnestness, expressive of strong desire that 
what he felt to be important should be accepted as true, and 
spring up to action; the same transparent, plain, forcible, and 
direct speech, conveying his exact thought to the mind — not 
something less or more; the same sovereignty of form, of brow, 
and eye, and tone, and manner — everywhere the intellectual 
king of men, standing before you — that same marvelousness of 
qu^ties and results, residing, I know not where, in words, in 
pictures, in the ordering of ideas, infelicities indescribable, by means 
whereof, coming from his tongue, all things seemed mended — 
truth seemed more true, protmbility more plausible, greatness 
more grand, goodness more awful, every affection more tender 
than when coming from other tongues — ^these are, in all, Ins 

But sometimes it became individualized and discriminated 
even from itself; sometimes place and circumstances, great in- 
terests at stake, a stage, an audience fitted for the highest historic 
action, a crisis, personal or national, upon him, stirred the depths 
of that emotional nature, as the angler of the goddess stirs the 
sea on which the great epic is beginning; strong passions them- 
selves kindled to intensity, C[uidcened every faculty to a new 
life; the stimulated associations of ideas brought all treasures 
of thought and knowledge within command; the spell, which 
often hdd his imagination fast, dissolved, and she arose and gave 
V»im to dioose of her urn of gold; earnestness became vehemence, 
the simple, perspicuous, measured and direct languap;e became 
a headlong, full, and burning tide of speech; the discourse of 


reason, wisdom, gravity, and beauty changed to that super- 
human, that rarest cx)nsummate eloquence — grand, rapid, 
pathetic, terrible; the aliquid immensum infinitumque that Cicero 
might have recognized; the master triumph of man in the rarest 
opportunity of lus noble power. 

Such elevation above himself, in congressional debate, was 
most tmcommon. Some such there were in the great discussions 
of executive power following the removal of the deposits, whidi 
they who heard them will never forget, and some which rest in 
the tradition of hearers only. But there were other fields of 
oratory on which, under the influence of more uncommon springs 
of inspiration, he exemplified, in still other forms, an eloquence 
in which I do not know that he has had a superior among men. 
Addressing masses by tens of thousands in the open air, on l^e 
urgent pditical questions of the day, or designed to lead the 
mutations of an hour devoted to the remembrance of some 
national era, or of some incident marking the progress of the 
nation, and lifting him up to a view of what is, and what is past, 
and some indistinct revelation of the glory that lies in the future, 
or of some great historical name, just borne by the nation to his 
tomb— we Imve learned that then and there, at the base of Btmker 
HiU, before the comer-stone was laid, and again when from the 
finii^ed coltunn the centuries looked on him; in Faneuil Hall, 
mourning for those with whose ispoken or written eloquence of 
freedom its arches had so often resounded; on the Rock of 
Plymouth; before the Capitol, of which there shall not be one 
stone left on another before his memory shall have ceased to live 
— in such scenes, unfettered by the laws of forensic or parlia- 
mentary debate, multitudes uncounted lifting up their eyes to 
him; some great historical scenes of America around; all symbols 
of her glory and art and power and fortune there; voices of the 
past, not tmheard; shapes beckoning from the future, not un- 
seen — sometimes that mighty intellect, borne upward to a height 
and kindled to an illumination which we shall see no more, 
wrought out, as it were, in an instant a picture of vision, warning, 
prediction; the progress of the nation; the contrasts of its eras; 
the heroic deaths; the motives to patriotism; the maxims and 
arts imperial by which the glory has been gathered and may be 
heightened — wrought out, in an instant, a picture to fade only 
when all record of our mind shall die. 

In looking over the public remains of his oratory, it is striking 
to remark how, even in that most sober and massive understand- 
ing and nature, you see leathered and expressed the characteristic 
sentiments and the passmg time of our America. It is the strong 
old oak which ascends before you; yet our soil, our heaven, are 
attested in it as perfectly as if it were a flower that could grow 
in no other climate and in no other hour of the year or day. Let 
me instance in one thing only. It is a peculiarity of some schools 


of eloquence that they embody and utter, not merely the indi- 
vidual genius and character of the speaker, but a national con- 
sciousness — a national era, a mood, a hope, a dread, a despair — 
in which you listen to the spoken history of the time. There 
is an eloquence of an expiring nation, such as seems to 
sadden the glorious speech of Demosthenes; such as 
breathes grand and gloomy from visions of the prophets 
of the last days of Israel and Judah; such as gave a spell to 
the expression of Grattan and of Kossuth — the sweetest, 
most mournful, most awful of the words which man may 
utter, or which man may hear — ^the eloquence of a perishing 

There is another eloquence, in which the national consciousness 
of a young or renewea and vast strength, of trust in a dazzling 
certam and limitless future, an inward glorying in victories yet 
to be won, sotmds out as by voice of clarion, c&Hengine to con- 
test for the highest prize of earth; such as that in which the 
leader of Israel in its first days holds up to the new nation the 
Land of Promise; such as that which in the well-imaged 
speeches scattered by Livy over the history of the "majestic 
series of victories" speaks the Roman consciousness of growing 
aggrandizement which should subject the world; such as that 
through which, at the tribtmes of her revolution, in the bulletins 
of her rising soldiers, France told to the world her dream of 

And of this kind somewhat is ours — cheerful, hopeful, trusting, 
as befits youth and spring; the eloquence of a state beginning 
to ascend to the first class of power, eminence, and consideration, 
and conscious of itself. It is to no purpose that they tell you it 
is in bad taste; that it partakes of arrogance and vanity; that a 
true national good breeding would not know, or seem to know, 
whether the nation is old or young; whether the tides of being 
are in their flow or ebb; whether these coursers of the sun are 
sinking slowly to rest, wearied with a journey of a thousand 
years, or just botmding from the Orient tmbreathed. Higher 
laws than those of taste determine the consciousness of nations. 
Higher laws than those of taste determine the general forms of 
the expression of that consciousness. Let the downward age of 
America find its orators and poets and artists to erect its spirit, 
or grace and soothe its dying; be it ours to go up with Webster 
to the Rock, the Monument, the Capitol, and bid "the distant 
generations hail ! " 

Until the seventh day of March, 1850, I think it would have 
been accorded to him by an almost universal acclaim, as general 
and as expressive of profound and intelligent conviction and of 
enthusiasm, love, and trust, as ever saluted conspicuous states- 
manship, tried by many crises of affairs in a great nation, agitated 
ever by parties, and wholly free. 




Delivered as Teni]X)rary Chairman of Progressive 
National Convention, Chicago, 111., June, 1911. 

We stand for a nobler America. We stand for an undivided 
Nation. We stand for a broader liberty, a fuller justice. We 
stand for a social brotherhood as against savage in^vidualism. 
We stand for an intelligent cooperation instead of a reckless com- 
petition. We stand for mutual helpfulness instead of mutual 
hatred. We stand for equal rights as a fact of life instead of a 
catch-word of politics. We stand for the rule of the people as a 
practical truth instead of a meaningless pretense. We stand for 
a representative government that represents the people. We 
battle for the actual rights of man. 

To carry out our principles we have a plain program of con- 
structive reform. We mean to tear down only that which is 
wrong and out of date; and where we tear down we mean to 
build what is right and fitted to the times. We barken to the 
call of the present. We mean to make laws fit conditions as they 
are and meet the needs of the people who are on earth to-day. 
That we may do this we found a party through which all who 
believe with us can work with us; or, rather, we declare our 
allegiance to the party which the people themselves have 

For this party comes from the grass roots. It has grown from 
the soil of the people's hard necessities. It has the vitality of 
the people's strong convictions. The people have work to be 
done and our party is here to do that work. Abuse will only 
strengthen it, ridicule only hasten its growth, falsehood only 
speed its victory. For years this party has been forming. Parties 
exist for the people; not the people for parties. Yet for years 
the politicians have made the people do the work of the parties 
instead of the parties doing the work of the people — and the 

goliticians own the parties. The people vote for one party and 
nd their hopes turned to ashes on their lips; and then to ptmish 
that party, they vote for the other party. So it is that partisan 
victories have come to be merely the people's vengeance; and 
always the secret powers have played their game. 

Like other free people, most of us Americans are progressive 
or reactionary, liberal or conservative. The neutrals do not 
count. Yet to-day neither of the old parties is either wholly 
progressive or wholly reactionary. Democratic politicians and 
office seekers say to reactionary Democratic voters that the 
Democratic party is reactionary enough to express reactionary 
views; and they say to progressive Democrats that the Demo- 
cratic party is progressive enough to express progressive views. 


At the same time, Republican politicians and office seekers say 
the same thing about the Republican party to progressive and 
reactionary Republican voters. 

Sometimes in both Democratic and Republican States the 
progressives get control of the party locally and then the reac- 
tionaries recapture the same puty in the same State; or this 
process is reversed. So there is no nation-wide unity of principle 
m either party, no stability of purpose, no clear-cut and sincere 
program of one party at frank and open war with an equally 
clear-cut and sincere program of an opposing party. 

This unintelligent tangle is seen in Congress. Republican and 
Democratic Senators and Representatives, believm^ alike on 
broad measures affecting the whole Republic, find it hard to 
vote together because of the nominal difference of their party 
membership. When, sometimes, under resistless conviction, 
they do vote together, we have this foolish spectacle: legislators 
calling themselves Re^blicans and Democrats support the same 
policy, the Democratic l^islators declaring that that policy is 
Democratic and Republican legislators declaring that it is Re- 
publican; and at the very same time other Democratic and 
Republican legislators oppose that very same policy, each of 
them declaring that it is not Democratic or not Republican. 

The condition makes it impossible most of the time, and hard 
at any time, for the people's legislators who believe in the same 
broad policies to enact them into logical, comprehensive laws. 
It confuses the public mind. It breeids suspicion and distrust. 
It enables such special interests as seek imjust gain at the public 
expense to get what they want. It creates and fosters the de- 
grading boss system in American politics through which these 
special interests work. 

This boss system is unknown and impossible under any other 
free government in the world. In its very nature it is hostile to 
general welfare. Yet it has grown until it now is a controlling 
influence in American public affairs. At the present moment 
notorious bosses are in the saddle of both old parties in various 
important States which must be carried to ^ect a President. 
This Black Horse Cavalry is the most important force in the 
practical work of the Democratic and Republican parties in the 

f resent campaign. Neither of the old parties' nominees for 
^resident can escape obligation to these old-party bosses or 
shake their practical hold on many and powerful members of 
the National Legislature. 

Under this boss system, no matter which party wins, the 
people seldom win; but the bosses almost always win. And they 
never work for the people. They do not even work for the party 
to which they belong. They work only for those anti-public 
interests whose politi<^ employees they are. It is these interests 
that are the real victors in the end. 


These special interests which suck thepeople's substance are 
bi-partisan. They use both parties. Tliey are the invisible 
eovemment behind our visible government. Democratic and 
Republican bosses alike are brother officers of this hidden power. 
No matter how fiercely they pretend to fight one another before 
election, they work together after election. And, acting so, this 
political conspiracy is able to delay, mutilate or defeat sound 
and needed laws for the people's welfare and the prosperity of 
honest business and even to enact bad laws, hurtful to the people's 
welfare and oppressive to honest business. 

It is this invisible government which is the real danger to 
American institutions. Its crude work at Chicago in June, which 
the people were able to see, was no more wicked than its skillful 
worK everywhere and always which the people are not able to see. 

But an even more serious condition results from the tmnatural 
alignment of the old parties. To-day we Americans are politi- 
cally shattered by sectionalism. Through the two old parties 
the tragedy of our histoiy is continued; and one great geographi- 
cal part A the Republic is separated from other parts of the 
Republic by an iUc^cal partisan solidarity. 

The South has men and women as genuinely progressive and 
others as genuinely reactionary as those in other parts of our 
country. Yet, for well-known reasons, these sincere and honest 
southern progressives and reactionaries vote together in a single 
party, wluch is neither progressive nor reactionary. They vote 
a dead tradition and a local fear, not a living conviction and a na- 
tional faith. They vote not for the Democratic party, but agunst 
the Republican party. They want to be free from this con<£tion; 
they can be free from it through the National Progressive party. 

For the problems which America faces to-day are economic 
and national. They have to do with a more just distribution of 
prosperity. They concern the living of the people; and there- 
fore the more direct government of the people by themselves. 

They affect the South exactly as they affect the North, the 
East or the West. It is an artificial and dangerous condition 
that prevents the southern man and woman from acting with the 
northern man and woman who believe the same thing. Yet just 
that is what the old parties do prevent. 

Not only does this out-of-date partisanship cut our Nation 
into two geographical sections; it also robs the Nation of a 
priceless asset of thought in working out our national destiny. 
The South once was famous for brilliant and constructive think- 
ing on national problems, and to-day the South has minds as 
brilliant and constructive as of old. But southern intellect can- 
not freely and fully aid, in terms of politics, the solving of the 
Nation's problems. This is so because of a partisan sectionalism 
which has nothing to do with those problems. Yet these problems 
can be solved only in terms of pohtics. 


The root of the wrongs which hurt the people is the fact that 
the people's government has been taken away from them — ^the 
invisible government has usurped the people's government. 
Their government must be given back to the people. And so 
the first purpose of the Progressive party is to make sure the rule 
of the people. The rule of the people means that the people 
themselves shall nominate, as well as elect, all candidates tor 
office, including Senators and Presidents of the United States. 
What profiteth it the people if they do only the electing while 
the invisible government does the nominating? 

The rule of the people means that when the people's legislators 
make a law which hurts the people, the people themselves may 
reject it. The rule of the people means that when the people's 
legidators refuse to pass a law which the people need, the people 
themselves may pass it. The rule of the people means that when 
the people's employees do not do the people's work well and 
honestly, the people may discharge them exactly as a business 
man discha^es emplovees who do not do their work well and 
honestly, llie people s officials are the people's servants, not 
the people's masters. 

We progressives believe in this rule of the people that the 
people themselves may deal with their own destiny. Who knows 
the people's needs so well as the people themselves? Who so 
patient as the people? Who so long suffering, who so just? Who 
so wise to solve their own problems? 

Today these problems concern the living of the people. Yet 
in the present stage of American development these problems 
should not exist in this country. For, in all the world there is no 
land so rich as ours. Our fields can feed hundreds of millions. 
We have more minerals than the whole of Europe. Invention 
has made easy the turning of this vast natural wealth into sup- 
plies for all the needs of man. One worker today can produce 
more than twenty workers could produce a century ago. 

The people living in this land of gold are the most daring and 
resourceful on the globe. Coming from the hardiest stock of 
every nation of the old world their very history in the new world 
has made Americans a peculiar people in courage, initiative, love 
of justice and all the elements of independent character. 

And, compared with other peoples, we are very few in numbers. 
There are only ninety millions of us, scattered over a continent. 
Germany has sixty-five millions packed in a country very much 
smaller than Texas. The population of Great Britain and Ire- 
land could be set down in Califomia and still have more than 
enough room for the poptilation of Holland. If this country 
were as thickly peopled as Belgium there would be more than 
twelve hundred million instead of only ninety million persons 
within our borders. 

So we have more than enough to supply every human being 


beneath the fla^. There ought not to be in this Republic a single 
day of bad busmess, a single unemployed workixv^nan, a an^ 
unfed child. American business men should never know an 
hour of tmoertainty, discouragement or fear; American woxkiiu^- 
men never a day of low wages, idleness or want. Hunger shotud 
never walk in these thinly peopled gardens of plenty. 

And yet in spite of all these favors which providence has 
showered upon us, the living of the people is the problem of the 
hour. Hundreds of thousands of hard-working Americans find 
it difficult to get enough to live on. The average income of an 
American laborer is less than $600 a year. With this he must 
furnish food, shelter and clothing for a family. 

Women, whose nourishing and protection should be the first 
care of the State, not only are dnven into the mighty army of 
wage-earners, but are forced to work tmder unfair and degrading 
conditions. The right of a child to grow into a normal human 
being is sacred; and yet, while small and poor countries, packed 
with people, have aboli^ed child labor, American mills, mines, 
factories and sweat-shops are destroying hundreds of thousands 
of American children in body, mind and soul. 

At the same time men have grasped fortunes in this country 
so great that the human mind cannot comprehend their magm- 
tude. These mountains of wealth are far lar|[er than even diat 
lavish reward which no one would deny to busmess risk or genitis. 

On the other hand, American business is uncertain and un- 
steady compared with the business of other nations. American 
business men are the best and bravest in the world, and yet our 
business conditions hamper their energies and f*h{\\ their courage. 
We have no permanency in business a!ffairs, no sure outlook upon 
the business future. This unsettled state of American business 
prevents it from realizing for the people that great and continu- 
ous prosperity which our country's location, vast wealth and 
small population justifies. 

We mean to remedv these conditions. We mean not only to 
make prosperity st^uiy, but to give to the many who earn it a 
just share of that prosperity instead of helping the few who do 
not earn it to take an uniust share. The progressive motto is 
"Pass prosperity around. To make human living easier, to 
free the hands of honest business, to make trade and conunerce 
sound and steady, to protect womanhood, save childhood and 
restore the dignity of manhood — ^these are the tasks we must 

What, then, is the progressive answer to these questions? We 
are able to give it specifically and concretely. The first work 
before us is the revival of honest business. For business is noth- 
ing but the industrial and trade activities of all the people. Men 
grow the products of the field, cut ripe timber from the lorest, dig 
metal from the mine, fashion all for human use, carry them to 


the market place and exchange them according to their mutual 
needs — and this is business. 

With our vast advantages, contrasted with the vast disad- 
vantages of other nations, American business all the time should 
be the best and steadiest in the world. But it is not. Germany, 
with shallow soil, no mines, only a window on the seas and a 
population more than ten times as dense as ours, yet has a sotmder 
business, a steadier prosperity, a more contented because better 
cared for people. 

What, then, must we do to make American business better? 
We must do what poorer nations have done. We must end the 
abuses of business by striking down those abuses instead of 
striking down business itself. We must tr^ to make little business 
big and all business honest instead of stnving to make big busi- 
ness little and yet letting it r^nain dishonest. 

Present-day business is as unlike old-time business as the old- 
time ox-cart is unlike the present-day locomotive. Invention 
has made the whole world over again. The railroad, telegraph, 
telephone have bound the people of modem nations into f amihes. 
To do the business of these closely knit millions in every modem 
country great business concerns came into being. What we call 
big business is the child of the economic progress of mankind. 
So warfare to destroy big business is foolish because it can not 
succeed and wicked because it ought not to succeed. Warfare 
to destroy big business does not hurt big business, which always 
comes out on top, so much as it hurts all other business whi(ji, 
in such a warfare, never comes out on top. 

With the growth of big business came business evils just as 
p[reat. It is these evils of big business that hurt the people and 
injure all other business. One of these wrongs is over capitaliza- 
tion which taxes the people's very living. Another is the manipu- 
lation of prices to the unsettlement of all normal business and 
to the people's damage. Another is interference in the making 
of the people's laws and the running of the people's government 
in the unjust interest of evil business. Gettmg laws that enable 
particular interests to rob the people, and even to gather criminal 
riches from human health ana life is still another. 

An example of such laws is the infamous tobacco legislation of 
1902, which authorized the Tobacco Trust to continue to collect 
from the people the Spanish War tax, amounting to a score of 
millions of dollars, but to keep that tax instead of turning it over 
to the government, as it had been doing. Mother example is 
the shameful meat legislation, by which the Beef Trust had the 
meat it sent abroad inspected by the government so that foreign 
countries would take its product and yet was permitted to sell 
diseased meat to our own people. It is incredible that laws like 
these could ever get on the Nation's statute books. The invisible 
government put them there; and only the universal wrath of an 



enraged people corrected them when, after years, the people 
discovered the outrages. 

It is to get just such laws as these and to prevent the passage 
of laws to correct them, as well as to keep off the statute books 
general laws which will end the general abuses of big busing 
that these few criminal interests corrupt our politics, invest in 
public officials and keep in power in both parties that type of 
politicians and party managers who debase American politics. 

Behind rotten laws and preventing sound laws, stands the 
corrupt boss; behind the corrupt boss stands the robber inter- 
est; and commanding these powers of pillage stands bloated 
htrnian greed. It is this conspiracy of evil we must overthrow 
if we wotdd get the honest laws we need. It is this invisible 
government we must destroy if we would save American in- 

Other nations have ended the very same business evils from 
which we suffer by clearly defining business wrong-doing and 
then making it a criminal offense, pimishable by imprisonment. 
Yet these foreign nations encourage big business itself and foster 
all honest business. But they do not tolerate dishonest business, 
little or big. 

What, then, shall we Americans do? Common sense and the 
experience of the world says that we ought to keep the good big 
business does for us and stop the wrongs that big business does 
to us. Yet we have done just the other thing. We have struck 
at big business itself and have not even aimed to strike at the 
evils of big business. Nearly twenty-five years ago Congress 
passed a law to govern American business m the present time 
which Parliament passed in the reign of King James to govern 
English business in that time. 

For a quarter of a centuxy the courts have tried to make this 
law work. Yet during this very time trusts grew greater in 
number and power than in the whole history of the world before; 
and their evils flourished tmhindered and tmchecked. These 
great business concerns grew because natural laws made them 
grow and artificial law at war with natural law could not stop 
their growth. But their evils grew faster than the trusts them- 
selves because avarice nourished those evils and no law of any 
kind stopped avarice from nourishing them. 

Nor is this the worst. Under the shifting interpretation of the 
Sherman law, uncertainty and fear is chilling the energies of the 
great body of honest American business men. As the Sherman 
kw now stands, no two business men can arrange their niutual 
affairs and be sure that they are not law-breakers. This is the 
main hindrance to the immediate and permanent revival of 
American business. If German or English business men, mth all 
their disadvantages compared with our advantages, were mana- 
cled by our Sherman law, as it stands, they soon would be bank- 


rupt. Indeed, foreign business men declare that, if their countries 
had such a law, so administered, they could not do business at all. 

Even this is not all. By the decrees of our courts, under the 
Sherman law, the two mightiest trusts on earth have actually 
been licensed, in the practical outcome, to go on doing every 
wrong they ever conmiitted. Under the decrees of the courts 
the Oil and Tobacco Trusts still can raise prices unjustly and 
already have done so. They still can issue watered stock and 
surely will do so. They still can throttle other business men and 
the United Cigar Stores Company now is doing so. They still 
can corrupt our politics and this moment are indulging in that 

The people are tired of this mock battle with criminal capital. 
They do not want to hurt business, but they do want to get 
something done about the trust question that amotmts to some- 
thing. What good does it do any man to read in his morning 
paper that the courts have "dissolved" the Oil Trust, and then 
resul in his evening paper that he must thereafter pay a higher 
price for his oil than ever before? What good does it do the 
laborer who smokes his mpe to be told tbat the cotirts have 
"dissolved" the Tobacco Trust and yet find that he must pay 
the same or a higher price for the same short-weight package of 
tobacco? Yet aU this is the practical result of the suits against 
these two greatest trusts in the world. 

Such business chaos and legal paradoxes as American business 
suffers from can be found nowhere else in the world. Rival na- 
tions do not fasten legal ball and chain upon their business — no, 
they put wings on its flying feet. Rival nations do not tell their 
business men that if they go forward with legitimate enterprise 
the pentitentiary may be their goal. No! Rival nations tell 
their business men that so long as they do honest business their 
governments will not hinder but will help them. 

But these rival nations do tell their business men that if they 
do any evil that our business men do, prison bars await them. 
Tliese rival nations do tell their business men that if they issue 
watered stock or cheat the people in any way, prison cdls will 
be their homes. 

Just this is what all honest American business wants; just 
this is what dishonest American business does not want; just 
this is what the American people propose to have; just this the 
national Republican platform of 190S pledged the people that 
we would give them ; and just this important pledge the adminis- 
tration, ekcted on that platform, repudiated as it repudiated 
the more immediate tariff pledge. 

Both these reforms, so vital to honest American business, the 
Progressive party will accomplish. Neither evil interests nor 
reddess demagogues can swerve us from our purpose; for we 
are free from ]x>tn and fear neither. 


We mean to put new business laws on our statute books whidi 
will tell American business men what they can do and what tiiey 
cannot do. We mean to make our business laws dear instead of 
foggy — ^to make them plainly state just what things are criminal 
axid what are lawful. And we mean that the penalty for things 
criminal shall be prison sentences that actually punish the real 
offender, instead of money fines that hurt nobody but the people, 
who must pay them in the end. 

And then we mean to send the message forth to hundreds of 
thousands of brilliant minds and brave hearts engaged in honest 
business, that they are not criminals but honorable men in their 
work to make good business in this Republic. Sure of victory, 
we even now say, " Go forward, American business men, and know 
that behind you, supporting you, encouraging you, are the power 
and approval of the greatest people under the sun. Go forward, 
American business men, and leed full the fires beneath American 
furnaces; and give employment to every American laborer who 
asks for work. Go forward, American business men, and capture 
the markets of the world for American trade; and know that on 
the wings of your commerce you carry liberty throughout the 
world and to every inhabitant thereof. Go forward, American 
business men, and realize that in the time to come it shall be 
said of you, as it is said of the hand that rounded Peter's Dome, 
'he builded better than he knew.' " 

The next ^^reat business reform we must have to steadily in- 
crease American prosperity is to change the method of building 
our tariffs. The tariff must be taken out of politics and treated 
as a business question instead of as a political question. Here- 
tofore, we have done just the other thing. That is wlw American 
business is upset every few years by unnecessaiy tariff upheavals 
and is weakened by tmcertainty m the periods between. The 
greatest need of business is certainty; but the only thing certain 
about our tariff is uncertainty. 

What, then, shall we do to make our tariff changes strengthen 
business instead of weakening business? Rival protective tariff 
nations have answered that question. Common sense has an- 
swered it. Next to our need to make the Sherman law modem, 
understandable and just, our greatest fiscal need is a genuine, 
perxnanent, non-partisan tariff commission. 

Five years ago, when the fight for this great business measure 
was begun in the Senate the bosses of boQi parties were against 
it. So, when the last revision of the tariff was on and a tariff 
commission might have been written into the tariff law, the ad- 
ministration would not aid this reform. When two years later 
the administration supported it weakly, the bi-partisan boss 
system killed it. There has not been and will not be any 
smcere and honest effort by the old parties to get a tariff com- 
mission. There has not been and wJU not be any sincere and 


honest purpose by those parties to take the tariff out of politics. 

For the tariff in politics is the excuse for those sham political 
battles which give the spoilers their opportunity. The tariff in 
politics is one of the invisible government's methods of wringing 
tribute from the people. Through the tariff in politics the bene- 
ficiaries of tariff excesses are cared for, no matter which party is 


Who has forgotten the tariff scandals that made President 
Cleveland denounce the Wilson-Gorman bill as "a perfidy and a 
dishonor?" Who ever can forget the brazen robberies forced 
into the Payne- Aldrich bill which Mr. Taft defended as "the 
b^t ever made?" If everyone else forgets these things the in- 
terests that profited by them never will forget them. The bosses 
and lobbyists that grew rich by putting them through never will 
forget them. That is why the invisible government and its 
agents want to keep the old method of tariff building. For, 
though such tariff revisions" may make lean years for the 
people, they make fat years for the powers of pillage and their 

So neither of the old parties can honestly carry out any tariff 
policies which they pledge the people to carry out. But even if 
they could and even if they were sincere, the old party platforms 
are in error on tariff policy. The Democratic platform declares 
for free trade; but free trade is wrong and ruinous. The Re- 
publican platform permits extortion; but tariff extortion is 
robbery by law. The Progressive party is for honest protection; 
and honest protection is right and a condition of American pros- 

A tariff high enough to give American producers the American 
market when they make honest goods and sell them at honest 
prices but low enough that when they sell dishonest goods at 
dishonest prices, foreign competition can correct both evils; a 
tariff high enough to enable American producers to pay our 
workingmen American wages and so arranged that the working- 
men wm get such wages; a business tariff whose changes will be 
so made as to reassure business instead of disturbing it — ^this is 
the tariff and the method of its making in which the Progressive 
party believes, for which it does battle and which it proposes to 
write into the laws of the land. 

The Payne-Aldrich tariff law must be revised immediately 
in accordance to these principles. At the same time a genuine, 

eirmanent, non-partisan tariff commission must be fixed in the 
w as firmly as the Interstate Commerce Commission. Neither 
of the old parties can do this work. For neither of the old parties 
believes in such a tariff; and, what is more serious, special privi- 
l^e is too thoroughly woven into the fiber of both old parties to 
allow them to m&e such a tariff. The Progressive party only 
is free from these influences. The Progressive party omy believes 


in the sincere enactment of a sound tariff policy. The Progres- 
sive party only can change the tariff as it must be changed. 

These are samples of the reforms in the laws of business that 
we intend to put on the Nation's statute books. But there are 
other questions as important and pressing that we mean to 
answer by sound and humane laws. Child labor in factories, 
mills, mines and sweat-shops must be ended throughout the 
Republic. Such labor is a crime against childhood because it 
prevents the growth of normal manhood and womanhood. It 
is a crime against the Nation because it prevents the growth of a 
host of children into strong, partiotic and intelligent citizens. 

Only the Nation can stop this industrial vice. The States 
cannot stop it. The States never stopped an^ national wrong — 
and child labor is a national wrong. To leave it to the State alone 
is unjust to business; for if some States stop it and other States 
do not, business men of the former are at a disadvantage with 
the business men of the latter, because they must sell in the same 
market ^oods made by manhood labor at manhood wages in 
competition with goods made by childhood labor at childhood 
wages. To leave it to the States is unjust to manhood labor; 
for childhood labor in any State lowers manhood labor in every 
State, because the product of childhood labor in any State com- 
petes with the product of manhood labor in every State. Chil- 
dren workers at the looms in South Carolina means bayonets 
at the breasts of men and women workers in Massachusetts who 
strike for living wages. Let the States do what they can, and 
more power to their arm; but let the Nation do what it should 
and cleanse our flag from this stain. 

Modem industrialism has changed the status of women. 
Women now are wage earners in factories, stores and other places 
of toil. In hours of labor and all the ph3rsical conditions of in- 
dustrial effort they must compete with men. And they must do 
it at lower wages than men receive — ^wages which, in most cases, 
are not enough for these women workers to live on. 

This is inhuman and indecent. It is unsocial and uneconomic. 
It is immoral and unpatriotic. Toward women the Progressive 
party proclaims the chivalry of the State. We propose to pro- 
tect women wage-earners by suitable laws, an example of which 
is the minimum wage for women workers — ^a wage which shall 
be high enough to at least buy clothing, food and shelter for the 
woman toiler. 

The care of the aged is one of the most perplexing problems 
of modem life. How is the workingman with less than five 
htmdred dollars a year, and with earning power waning as his 
own years advance, to provide for aged parents or other relatives 
in addition to furnishing food, shelter and dothing for his wife 
and children? What is to become of the family of the laboring 
man whose strength has been sapped by excessive toil and who 


has been thrown upon the industrial scrap heap? It is questions 
like these we must answer if we are to justify free institutions. 
They are questions to which the masses of people are chained as 
to a body of death. And they are questions which other and 
poorer nations are answering. 

We progressives mean that America shall answer them. The 
Progressive party is the helping hand to those whom a vicious 
industrialism has maimed and crippled. We are for the conserva- 
tion of our natural resources; but even more we are for the con- 
servation of human life. Our forests, water power and minerals 
are valuable and must be saved from the spoilers; but men, 
women and children are more valuable and they, too, must be 
saved from the spoilers. 

Because women, as much as men, are a part of our economic 
and social life, women, as much as men, should have the voting 
power to solve aU economic and social problems. Votes for 
women are theirs as a matter of natural right alone; votes 
for women should be theirs as a matter of political wisdom also. 
As wage-earners, they shotdd help to solve the labor problem; 
as property owners they should help to solve the tax prob- 
lem ; as wives and mothers they should help to solve all the problems 
that concern the home. And that means all natioiml prob- 
lems; for the Nation abides at the fireside. 

If it is said that women cannot help defend the Nation in time 
of war and therefore that they should not help to determine the 
Nation's destinies in time of peace, the answer is that women 
suffer and serve in time of conflict as much as men who carry 
muskets. And the deeper answer is that those who bear the 
Nation's soldiers are as much the Nation's defenders as their 

Public spokesmen for the invisible government say that many 
of our reforms are unconstitutional. The same kind of men said 
the same thing of every effort the Nation has made to end national 
abuses. But in every case, whether in the courts, at the ballot 
box, or on the battlefield, the vitality of the Constitution was 

The Progressive party believes that the Constitution is a living 
thing, growing with the people's growth, strengthening with the 
people's strength, aiding the people in their struggle for life, 
liberty and the pursuit of happiness, permitting the people to 
meet all their needs as conditions change. The opposition be- 
lieves that the Constitution is a dead form, holding back the 
people's growth, shackling the people's strength but giving a 
free hand to malign powers thatprey upon the people. The nrst 
words of the Constitution are '* We the people," and they declare 
that the Constitution's purpose is "to form a perfect Union and 
to promote the general wdfare." To do just that is the very 
heart of the progressive cause. 


The Progressive party asserts anew the vitality of the Con- 
stitution. We believe in the true doctrine of states' rights, 
which forbids the Nation from interfering with states' a&iis, 
and also forbids the states from interfering with national affairs. 
The combined intelligence and composite conscience of the 
American people is as irresistible as it is righteous; and the Con- 
stitution aoes not prevent that force from working out the gen- 
eral welfare. 

From certain sources we hear preachments about the danger 
of our reforms to American institutions. What is the purpose of 
American institutions? Why was this Republic established? 
What does the flag stand for? What do these things mean? 

They mean that the people shall be free to correct htunan 

They mean that men, women and children shall not be denied 
the opportunity to grow stronger and nobler. 

They mean that uie people shall have the power to make our 
land each day a better place to live in. 

They mean the realities of liberty and not the academics of 

They mean the actual progress of the race in tangible items of 
daily hving and not the theoretics of barren disputation. 

If they do not mean these things they are as sounding brass 
and tinlding cymbals. 

A Nation of strong, upright men and women; a Nation of 
wholesome homes, realizmg the best ideals; a Nation whose 
power is glorified by its justice and whose justice is the conscience 
of scores of millions of God-fearing people — ^that is the Nation 
the people need and want. And uiat is the Nation they shall 

For never doubt that we Americans will make good the real 
meaning of our institutions. Never doubt that we will solve, in 
righteousness and wisdom, every vexing problem. Never doubt 
tluit in the end, the hand from above that leads us upward will 
prevail over the hand from below that drags us downward. Never 
doubt that we are indeed a Nation whose God is the Lord. 

And, so, never doubt that a braver, fairer, cleaner America 
surelv will come; that a better and brighter life for all beneath 
the nag surely will be achieved. Those who now scoff soon will 
pray. Those who now doubt soon will believe. 

&x)n the night will pass; and when, to the Sentinel on the 
ramparts of Liberty the anxious ask: "Watchman, what of the 
night?" his answer will be "Lo, the mom appeareth." 

Knowing the price we must pay, the sacrifice we must make, 
the burdens we must carry, the assaults we must endure — ^know- 
ing full well the cost — yet we enlist, and we enlist for the war. 
For we know the justice of our cause, and we know, too, its 
certain triumph. 


Not reluctantly then, but eagerly, not with faint hearts but 
strong, do we now advance upon the enemies of the people. For 
the call that comes to us is the call that came to our fathers. As 
they responded so shall we. 

" He hath sotmded forth a trumpet that shall never call retreat, 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat. 
Oh, be swift our souls to answer Him, be jubilant our feet. 

Our God is marching on." 



I am astonished that so many people should care to hear this 
story over again. Indeed, this lecture has become a study in 
psychology; it often breaks all rules of oratory, departs from the 
precepts of rhetoric, and yet remains the most popular of any 
lecture I have delivered in the forty-four years of my public life. 
I have sometimes studied for a year upon a lecture and made 
careftd research, and then presented the lecture just once — never 
ddivered it again. I put too much work on it. But this had no 
work on it — ^thrown together perfectly at random, spoken off- 
hand without any special preparation, and it succeeds when the 
thing we study, work over, adjust to a plan, is an entire failure. 

The "Acres of Diamonds" which I have mentioned through 
so many years are to be found in Philadelphia, and you are to 
find them. Many have found them. And what man has done, 
man can do. I could not find anything better to illustrate my 
thought than a story I have told over and over again, and which 
is now found in books in nearly every library. 

In 1870 we went down the Tigris Kiver. We hired a guide at 
Bagdad to show us Persepolis, Nineveh and Babylon, and the 
ancient countries of Ass3ma as far as the Ajtibian Gulf. He was 
well acquainted with the land, but he was one of those guides 
who love to entertain their patrons; he was like a barber that 
tells you many stories in order to keep your mind off the scratch- 
ing and the scraping. He told me so many stories that I grew 
tired of his telling them and I refused to listen — ^looked away 
whenever he commenced; that made the guide quite angry. I 
remember that toward evening he took his Turlash cap off his 
head and swung it around in the air. The gesture I did not un- 

>Beportad by A. RiumU Smith and Harry E. Qreager. Uaed by penni*- 

On May 21, 1914, when Dr. Conwell delivered this leotnre for the five 
thouaanth time, Mr. John Wanamaker said that if the prooeedi had been put 
out at oompound interest the sum would anregate ediht milliona of doUua. 
Dr. Conwell haa unif onnly devoted hie leoturmg income to woilca of beneyoJenoe. 


derstand and I did not dare look at him for fear I should become 
the victim of another story. But, although I am not a woman, 
I did look, and the instant I turned my eyes upon that worthy 

fiide he was off again. Said he, " I will tell you a story now which 
reserve for my particular friends!" So then, counting myself 
a particular friend, I listened, and I have alwa3rs been glad I did. 

He said there once lived not far from the River Indus an ancient 
Persian by the name of Al Hafed. He said that Al Hafed owned 
a very large farm with orchards, grain fields and gardens. He 
was a contented and wealthy man — contented because he was 
wealthy, and w&sdthy because he was contented. One day there 
visited this old farmer one of those ancient Buddhist priests, 
and he sat down by Al Hafed's fire and told that old farmer how 
this world of ours was made. He said that this world was once 
a mere bank of fog, which is scientifically true, and he said that the 
Almighty thrust his finger into the hsmk of fog and then b^an 
slowly te move his finger arotmd and gradually to increase the 
speed of his finger untu at last he whirled that bank of fog into 
a solid baU of fire, and it went rolling through the universe, burn- 
ing its way through other cosmic banks of fog, until it condensed 
the moisture without, and fell in floods of rain upon the heated 
surface and cooled the outward crust. Then the internal flames 
burst through the cooling crust and threw up the mountains and 
made the hills of the vafley of this wonderful world of ours. If 
this internal melted mass burst out and cooled very quickly it 
became granite; that which cooled less quickly became silver; 
and less quickly, gold; and after gold diamonds were made. 
Said the old priest, "A diamond is a congealed drop of sunlight." 

This is a scientific truth also. You all know that a diamond 
is pure carbon, actually deposited stmlight — and he said another 
thing I would not forget: he declared that a diamond is the last 
and highest of God's mineral creations, as a woman is the last 
and highest of God's animal creations. I suppose that is the 
reason why the two have such a liking for each other. And the 
old priest told Al Hafed that if he had a handful of diamonds he 
could purchase a whole country, and with a mine of diamonds he 
cotild place his children upon thrones through the influence of 
their great wealth. Al Hafed heard all about diamonds and how 
much they were worth, and went to his bed that night a poor 
man — not that he had lost anything, but poor because he was 
discontented and discontented because he thought he was poor. 
He said: "I want a mine of diamonds!" So he lay awake all 
night, and early in the morning sought out the priest. Now I 
know from experience that a priest when awakened early in the 
morning is cross. He awoke that priest out of his dreams and 
said to him, " Will you tell me where I can find diamonds? " The 
priest said, "Diamonds? What do you want with diamonds?" 
"I want to be immensely rich," said Al Hafed, "but I don't 


know where to go." "Well," said the priest, "if you will find a 
river that runs over white sand between hi^ mountains, in those 
sands you will always see diamonds." "Do you really believe 
that there is such a river?" "Plenty of them, plenty of them; 
all you have to do is just go and find them, then you have them." 
Al H^ed said, "I will eo." So he sold his farm, collected his 
money at interest, left his family in charge of a neighbor, and 
away he went in search of diamonds. He oegan very properly, to 
my mind, at the Mountains of the Moon. Afterwards he went 
around into Palestine, then wandered on into Europe, and at 
last when his money was all spent, and he was in rap^, wretched- 
ness and poverty, he stood on the shore of that bay m Barcelona, 
Spain, when a tidal wave came rolling; through the Pillars of 
Hercules and the poor afflicted, suffermg man could not resist 
the awftd temptation to cast himself into that incoming tide, 
and he sank beneath its foaming crest, never to rise in this life 

When that old guide had told me that very sad story, he 
stopped the camd I was riding and went back to fix the baggage 
on one of the other camels, and I remember thinking to mysdS, 
"Why did he reserve that for his particular friends}" There 
seemed to be no beginning, middle or end — ^nothing to it. That 
was the first story I ever heard told or read in which the hero was 
killed in the first chapter. I had but one chapter of that story 
and the hero was dead. When the guide came back and took up 
the halter of my camel again, he went right on with the same 
story. He said that Al Hafed's successor led his camel out into 
the garden to druik, and as that camel put its nose down into the 
dear water of the garden brook Al Hafed's successor noticed a 
curious flash of light from the sands of the shallow stream, and 
reachinfi^ in he pmled out a black stone having an eye of light 
that r^ected edl the colors of the rainbow, and he took tnat 
curious pebble into the house and left it on the mantel, then went 
on his way and forgot all about it. A few days after that, this 
same old priest who told Al Hafed how diamonds were made, 
came in to visit his successor, when he saw that flash of light 
from the mantel. He rushed up and said, " Here is a diamond — 
here is a diamond! Has Al Hafed returned?" "No, no; Al 
Hafed has not returned and that is not a diamond; that is noth- 
ing but a stone; we found it right out here in our garden." " But 
I know a diamond when I see it," said he; " that is a diamond! " 

Then together they rushed to the garden and stirred up the 
white san£ with their fingers and found others more beautiftd» 
more valuable diamonds than the first, and thus, said the guide 
to me, were discovered the diamond mines of Golconda, the most 
magnificent diamond mines in aU the history of mankind, ex- 
ceeding the IQmberley in its value. The great Kohinoor diamond 
in England's crown jewels and the largest crown diamond on 


and thejr sold out in Massachusetts and went to Wisconsin, where 
he went into the employ of the Superior Copper Mining Company, 
and he was lost from sight in the employ of that company at 
fifteen dollars a week again. He was also to have an interest in 
any mines that he should discover for that company. But I do 
not believe that he has ever discovered a mine — I do not know 
anything about it, but I do not believe he has. I know he had 
scarcely gone from the old homestead before the farmer who had 
bought the homestead went out to dig potatoes, and as he was 
bringing them in in a large basket t}m>ugh the front gateway, 
the ends of the stone wall came so near together at the gate that 
the basket hugged very tight. So he set the basket on the grotmd 
and pulled, first on one side and then on the other side. Our 
farms in Massachusetts are mostly stone walls, and the farmers 
have to be economical with their gateways in order to have some 
place to put the stones. That basket hu^ed so tight there that 
as he was hauling it through he noticed m the upper stone next 
the gate a block of native silver, eight inches square; and this 
professor of mines and mining and mineralogv, who would not 
work for forty-five dollars a week, when he sold that homestead 
in Massachusetts, sat right on that stone to make the bargain. 
He was brought up there; he had gone back and forth by that 
piece of silver, rubbed it with his sleeve, and it seemed to say, 

Come now, now, now, here is a hundred thousand dollars. 
Why not take me?" But he wotdd not take it. There was no 
silver in Newburyport; it was all away oflF — ^well, I don't know 
where; he didn't, but somewhere else — ^and he was a professor 
of mineralogy. 

I do not Imow of anything I wotdd enjoy better than to take 
the whole time to-night telling of blunders like that I have heard 
professors make. Yet I wish I knew what that man is doixig out 
there in Wisconsin. I can imagine him out there, as he sits by 
his fireside, and he is saying to his friends, "Do you know that 
man Conwell that lives in Philadelphia?" "Oh, yes, I have 
heard of him." "And do you know that man Jones that lives 
in that city? " "Yes, I have heard of him." And then he begins 
to laugh and laugh and savs to his friends, "They have done the 
same thing I did, precisely." And that spoils the whole joke, 
because you and I have done it. 

Ninety out of every hundred people here have made that mis- 
take this very day. I say you ought to be rich; you have no 
right to be poor. To live in Phil^elphia and not be rich is a 
misfortune, and it is doubly a misfortune, because you cotdd have 
been rich just as well as be poor. Philadelphia furnishes so many 
opportunities. You ought to be rich. But persons with certain 
rehgious prejudice will ask, "How can you spend your time ad- 
vising the rising generation to give their time to getting money — 
dollars and cents — the commerdal spirit?" 


Yet I must say that you ought to spend time getting rich. You 
and I know there are some things more valuable than money; 
of course, we do. Ah, yes! By a heart made unspeakably sad 
by a grave on which the autumn leaves now fall, I know there 
are some things higher and grander and sublimer than money. 
Well does the man know, who has suffered, that there are some 
things sweeter and holier and more sacred than gold. Neverthe- 
less, the man of common sense also knows that there is not any 
one of those things that is not greatly enhanced by the use of 
money. Money is power. Love is the grandest thing on God's 
earth, but fortimate the lover who has plenty of money. Money 
is power; money has powers; and for a man to say, "I do not 
want money," is to say, "I do not wish to do anv good to my 
fellowmen. It is absurd thus to talk. It is absurd to disconnect 
them. This is a wonderfully great life, and you ought to spend 
your time getting money, because of the power there is in money. 
And yet tins religious prejudice is so great that some people thii^ 
it is a great honor to be one of God's poor. I am looking in the 
faces of people who think just that wa^. I heard a man once say 
in a prayer meeting that he was thanknil that he was one of God s 
poor, and then I silently wondered what his wife wotdd say to 
that speech, as she took in washing to support the man while he 
sat and smoked on the veranda. I don't want to see any more 
of that kind of God's poor. Now, when a man could have been 
rich just as well, and he is now weak because he is poor, he has 
done some great wrong; he has been tmtruthftil to himsdf ; he 
has been unkind to his fellowmen. We ought to get rich if we 
can by honorable and Christian methods, and these are the only 
methods that sweep us quickly toward the goal of riches. 

I remember, not many years ago a young theological student 
who came into my office and said to me that he thought it was 
his duty to come in and "labor with me." I asked him what 
had happened, and he said: *' I feel it is my duty to come in and 
speak to you, sir, and say that the Holy Scriptures declare that 
money is the root of all evil. I asked him where he found that 
sa3dng, and he said he found it in the Bible. I asked him whether 
he had made a new Bible, and he said, no, he had not gotten a 
new Bible, that it was in the old Bible. "Well," I said, "if it is 
in my Bible, I never saw it. Will you please get the text-book 
and let me see it? " He left the room and soon came stalking in 
with his Bible open, with aU the bigoted pride of the narrow 
sectarian, who fotmds his creed on some misinterpretation of 
Scripture, and he put the Bible down on the table before me and 
fairly squealed into my ear, "There it is. You can read it for 
yourself." I said to him, " Yotmg man, you will learn, when you 
get a little older, that you cannot trust another denomination 
to read the Bible for you." I said, " Now, you belong to another 
denomination. Please read it to me, and remember that you are 


taught in a school where emphasis is exegesis." So he took the 
Bible and read it: "The hue of mon^ is the root of all eviL" 
Then he had it right. The Great Book has come back into the 
esteem and love of the people, and into the respect of the greatest 
minds of earth, and now you can quote it and rest your Hfe and 
your death on it without more fear. So, when he quoted right 
from the Scriptures he quoted the truth. "The love of money 
is the root of all evil.'* Oh, that is it. It is the worship of the 
means instead of the end, though you cannot reach the end with- 
out the means. When a man makes an idol of the money insteeul 
of the purposes for which it may be used, when he squeezes the 
dollar until the eagle squeals, then it is made the root of all evil. 
Think, if you only haa the money, what you cotdd do for your 
wife, your child, and for your home and your city. Think how 
soon you could endow the Temple College yonder if you only 
had tne money and the disposition to give it; and yet, my hiend, 
people say you and I shotdd not spend the time getting rich. How 
mconsistent the whole thing is. We ought to be nch, because 
money has power. I think the best thing for me to do is to illus- 
trate this, for if I say you ought to get rich, I ought, at least, to 
suggest how it is done. We get a prejudice against rich men be- 
cause of the lies that are told about them. The lies that are told 
about Mr. Rockefeller because he has two hundred million dollars 
— so many believe them; yet how false is the representation of 
that man to the world. How little we can tell what is true nowa- 
days when newspapers try to sell their papers entirely on some 
sensation! The way they lie about the nch men is something 
terrible, and I do not know that there is anything to illustrate 
this better than what the newspapers now say atxnit the city of 
Philadelphia. A young man came to me the other day and said, 
" If Mr. Rockefeller, as you think, is a good man, why is it that 
everybody says so much against him? It is because he has 
gotten ahead of us; that is the whole of it — ^just gotten ahead of 
us. Why is it Mr. Carnegie is criticised so sharply by an envious 
world? Because he has gotten more than we have. If a man 
knows more than I know, don't I incline to criticise somewhat 
his learning? Let a man stand in a pulpit and preach to thous- 
ands, and if I have fifteen people in my church, and they're all 
asleep, don't I criticise him? We always do that to the man 
who gets ahead of us. Why, the man you are criticising has one 
hundred millions, and you have fifty cents, and both of you have 
just what you are worth. One of the richest men in this country 
came into my home and sat down in my parlor and said: "Did 
you see all those lies about my family in the paper? " " Certainly 
I did; I knew they were lies when I saw them." "Why do they 
lie about me the way they do?" "Well," I said to him, "if you 
will give me your check for one hundred millions, I will take aU 
the hes along With it." "Well," said he, "I don't see any sense 


in their thus talking about my family and mjrself. Conwell, tell 
me frankly, what do you think the American people think of me? " 
"Well,'* said I, "they think you are the blackest-hearted villain 
that ever trod the soil ! " " But what can I do about it? " There 
is nothing he can do about it, and yet he is one of the sweetest 
Christian men I ever knew. If you get a hundred millions you 
will have the lies; vou will be lied about, and you can judge your 
success in any line bv the lies that are told about you. I say that 
you ought to be ricn. But there are ever coming to me yoimg 
men who say, "I would like to go into business, but I cannot. 
" Why not? " Because I have no capital to begin on." Capital, 
capital to begin on! What I young man! Living in Philaddphia 
and looking at this wealthy generation, all of whom began as poor 
boys, and you want capital to begin on? It is fortunate for you 
that you have no capital. I am glad you have no money. I pity 
a rich man's son. A rich man's son in these days of ours occupies 
a very difficult position. They are to be pitied. A rich man's 
son cannot know the very best things in human life. He cannot. 
The statistics of Massachusetts show us that not one out of 
seventeen rich men's sons ever die rich. They are raised in 
luxury, they die in poverty. Even if a rich man's son retains his 
fatiier's money even then he cannot know the best things of life. 
A yotmg man in our college yonder asked me to f ormtdate for 
Htm what I thought was the happiest hour in a man's history, 
and I studied it long and came back convinced that the happiest 
hour that any man ever sees in any earthly matter is when a young 
man takes his bride over the threshold of the door, for the first 
time, of the house he himself has earned and built, when he turns 
to his bride and with an eloquence greater than any language 
of mine, he sayeth to his wife. My loved one, I earned this nome 
myself; I earned it all. It is all mine, and I divide it with thee." 
That is the grandest moment a human heart may ever see. But 
a rich man's son cannot know that. He goes into a finer mansion, 
it may be, but he is obliged to go through the house and say, 
"Mother gave me this, mother gave me that, my mother gave 
me that, mv mother gave me that," until his wife wishes she 
had married his mother. Oh, I pity a rich man's son. I do. 
Until he gets so far along in his dudeism that he gets his arms up 
like that and can't get them down. Didn't you ever see any of 
them astray at Atlantic City? I saw one of these scarecrows 
once and I never tire thinking about it. I was at Niagara Palls 
lecturing, and after the lecture I went to the hotel, and when I 
went up to the desk there stood there a millionaire's son from 
New York. He was an indescribable specimen of anthropologic 
potency. He carried a gold-headed cane tmder his arm — more 
m its head than he had in his. I do not believe I could describe 
the young man if I should try. But still I must say that he wore 
an eye-glass he could not see through; patent leather shoes he 


cotdd not walk in, and pants he could not sit down in — dressed 
like a grasshopper! Well, this human cricket came up to the 
clerk's desk just as I came in. He adjusted his unse^ng eye- 
glass in this wise and lisped to the derk, because it's " Hinglish, 
you know," to lisp: **Thir, thir, will you have the kindness to 
fuhnish me with thome papah and thome envelopehs!" The 
derk measured that man quick, and he pulled out a drawer and 
took some envelopes and paper and cast them across the counter 
and turned away to his books. You should have seen that speci- 
men of humanity when the paper and envelopes came across the 
counter — he whose wants had always been anticipated by 
servants. He adjusted his unseeing eye-glass and he yelled after 
that clerk: "Come back here, thir, come right back here. Now, 
thir, will you order a thervant to take that papah and thothe 
envelopes and carry them to yondah dethk." Oh, the poor 
miserable, contemptible American monkey! He couldn't can^ 
paper and envelopes twenty feet. I suppose he could not get his 
arms down. I have no pity for such travesties of human nature. * 
If you have no capital, i am glad of it. You don't need capital; 
you need common sense, not copper cents. 

A. T. Stewart, the great princely merchant of New York, the 
richest man in America in his time, was a poor boy; he had a 
dollar and a half and went into the mercantile business. But he 
lost eighty-seven and a half cents of his first dollar and a half 
because he bought some needles and thread and buttons to sell, 
which people didn't want. 

Are you poor? It is because you are not wanted and are left 
on your own hands. There was the great lesson. Apply it which- 
ever way you will it comes to every single person's life, young or 
old. He did not know what people needed, and consequently 
bought something they didn't want and had the goods left on 
his hands a dead loss. A. T. Stewart learned there the great lesson 
of his mercantile life and said, " I will never buv anything more 
until I first learn what the people want; then I U make the pur- 
chase." He went around to the doors and asked them what they 
did want, and when he found out what they wanted, he invested 
his sixty-two and a half cents and began to supply "a known de- 
mand." I care not what your profession or occupation in life 
may be; I care not whether you are a lawyer, a doctor, a house- 
keeper, teacher or whatever else, the principle is precisely the 
same. We must know what the world needs nrst and then invest 
ourselves to supply that need, and success is almost certain. 
A. T. Stewart went on until he was worth forty millions. " Well," 
vou will sa^, "a man can do that in New York, but cannot do it 
here in Philadelphia." The statistics very carefully gathered in 
New York in 1889 showed one hundred and seven miflionaries in 
the city worth over ten millions apiece. It was remarkable and 
people think they must go there to get rich. Out of that one 


hundred and seven millionaires only seven of them made their 
money in New York, and the others moved to New York after 
th^ fortunes were made, and sixty-seven out of the remaining 
hundred made their forttmes in towns of less than six thousand 
people, and the richest man in the country at that time lived in a 
town of thirty-five hundred inhabitants, and alwa3rs lived there 
and never moved away. It is not so much where you are as what 
you are. But at the same time if the largeness of the city comes 
mto the problem, then remember it is the smaller city that fur- 
nishes the great opporttmity to make the millions of money. The 
best illustration that I can give is in reference to John Jacob 
Astor, who was a poor boy and who made aU the money of the 
Astor family. He made more than his successors have ever 
earned, and yet he once held a mortgage on a millinery store in 
New York, and because the people could not make enough money 
to pay the interest and the rent, he foreclosed the mortgage and 
took possession of the store and went into partnership with the 
man who had failed. He kept the same stock, did not give them 
a dollar capital, and he left them alone and went out and sat 
down upon a bench in the park. Out there on that bench in the 
park he had the most important, and to my mind, the pleasantest 
part of that partnership business. He was watching the ladies 
as they went by; and where is the man that wouldn't get rich at 
that business? But when John Jacob Astor saw a lady pass, with 
her shoulders back and her head up, as if she did not care if the 
whole world looked on her, he studied her bonnet; and before 
that bonnet was out of sight he knew the shape of the frame and 
the color of the trimmings, the curl of the — something on a 
bonnet. Sometimes I try to describe a woman's bonnet, but it 
is of little use, for it would be out of style to-morrow night. So 
John Jacob Astor went to the store and said: "Now, put in the 
show window just such a bonnet as I describe to you because,'* 
said he, "I have just seen a lady who likes just such a bonnet. 
Do not make up any more till I come back.' And he went out 
again and sat on that bench in the park, and another lady of a 
dMerent form and complexion passed him with a bonnet of dif- 
ferent shape and color, of course. "Now," said he, "put such a 
bonnet as that in the show window." He didn't fill his show win- 
dow with hats and bonnets which drive people away and then 
sit in the back of the store and bawl because the people go some- 
where else to trade. He didn't put a hat or bonnet m that show 
window the like of which he had not seen before it was made up. 
In our city especially there are great opporttmities for manu- 
facturing, and the time has come when the line is drawn very 
sharply between the stockholders of the factory and their em- 
ployes. Now, friends, there has also come a discoura^ng gloom 
upon this country and the laboring men are beginmng to feel 
that they are being held down by a crust over their heads through 


which they find it impossible to break, and the aristocratic monejr- 
owner himself is so far above that he will never descend to then- 
assistance. That is the thought that is in the minds of our people. 
But, friends, never in the history of our country was there an 
opportunity so great for the poor man to get rich as there is now 
in the city of Philadelphia. The very fact that they get discour- 
aged is what prevents them from getting rich. That is all there 
is to it. The road is open, and let us keep it open between the 
poor and the rich. I know that the labor unions have two great 
problems to contend with, and there is only one way to solve 
them. The labor tmions are doing as much to prevent its solving 
as are the capitalists to-day, and there are positively two sides 
to it. The labor union has two difficulties; the first one is that 
it began to make a labor scale for all classes on a par, and they 
scale down a man that can earn five dollars a day to two and a 
half a day, in order to level up to him an imbecile that caimot 
earn fifty cents a day. That is one of the most dangerous and 
discouraein|; things for the working man. He cannot get the 
results of his work if he do better work or higher work or work 
longer; that is a dangerous thing, and in order to get every labor- 
ing man free and every American equal to every other American, 
let the laboring man a^ what he is worth and get it — not let any 
capitalist say to him: ''You shall work for me for half of what 
you are worth;" nor let any labor organization say: "You shall 
work for the capitalist for half your worth." lie a man, be inde- 
pendent, and then shall the laboring man find the road ever open 
from poverty to wealth. The other difficulty that the labor union 
has to consider, and this problem they have to solve themselves, 
is the kind of orators who come and talk to them about the oppress 
sive rich. I can in my dreams recite the oration I have heard 
again and again under such circumstances. My life has been with 
the laboring man. I am a laboring man myself. I have often, 
in their assemblies, heard the speech of the man who has been 
invited to address the labor union. The man gets up before the 
assembled companv of honest laboring men and he b^[ins by 
saying: "Oh, ye honest, industrious laboring men, who have 
furnished all the capital of the world, who have built all the 
palaces and constructed all the railroads and covered the ocean 
with her steamships. Oh, you laboring men! You are nothing 
but slaves; yon are ground down in uie dust by the capitalist 
who is gloatmg over vou as he enjoys his beautiful estates and 
as he has his l^nks filled with gold, and every dollar he owns is 
coined out of the hearts' blood of the honest laboring man." 
Now, that is a lie, and you know it is a lie; and yet that is the 
kind of speech that they are all the time hearing, representirigthe 
capitalists as wicked and the laboring men so enslaved. Why, 
how wrong it is! Let the man who loves his flag and believes in 
American principles endeavor with all his soul to bring the capital- 


ist and the laboring man together until they stand side by side, 
and arm in arm, and work for the common good of humanity. 

He is an enemy to his cotmtry who sets capital against labor 
or labor against capital. 

Suppose I were to go down through this audience and ask you 
to introduce me to uie great inventors who live here in Phila- 
delphia. " The inventors of Philadelphia/' you would say, " Why 
we don't have any in Philadelphia. It is too slow to invent any- 
thing. But you do have just as great inventors, and they are 
here in this audience, as ever invented a machine. But the 
probability is that the greatest inventor to benefit the world with 
his discovery is some person, perhaps some lady, who thinks she 
could not invent anything. Did you ever study the history of 
invention and see how strange it was that the man who made 
the greatest discoverydid it without any previous idea that he 
was an inventor? Who are the great inventors? They are 
persons with plain, straightforward common sense, who saw a 
need in the world and immediately applied themselves to supply 
that need. If you want to invent anvthin^, don't try to find it 
in the wheels in your head nor the wheels m your machine, but 
first find out what the people need, and then apply yourself to 
that need, and this leads to invention on the part of the people 
you would not dream of before. The great inventors are simply 
great men; the greater the man the more simple the man; and 
the more simple a* machine, the more valuable it is. Did you ever 
know a really great man? His ways are so simple, so common, so 
plain, that you think any one could do what ne is doing. So it 
IS with the great men the world over. If you know a resuly great 
man, a neighbor of yours, you can go right up to him and say, 
" How are you, Jim, good morning, Sam." Of course you can, 
for they are always so simple. 

When I wrote the life of General Garfield, one of his neighbors 
took me to his back door, and shouted, "Jim, Jim, Jim!" and 
very soon "Tim" came to the door and G^eral Garfield let me 
in — one of the grandest men of our century. The great men of 
the world are ever so. I was down in Virginia and went up to an 
educational institution and was directed to a man who was setting 
out a tree. I approached him and said, " Do you think it would 
be possible for me to see General Robert £. Lee, the President of 
the University?" He said, "Sir, I am General Lee." Of cotu^e, 
when you meet such a man, so noble a man as that, you will find 
him a simple, plain man* Greatness is always just so modest 
and great mventions are simple. 

I asked a class in school once who were the great inventors, and 
a little girl popped up and said, "Columbus." Well, now, she 
was not so far wrong. Columbtis bought a farm and he carried 
on that farm just as I carried on my father's farm. He took a hoe 
and went out and sat down on a rock. But Columbus, as he sat 


upon that shore and looked out upon the ocean, noticed that the 
ships, as they sailed away, sank deeper into the sea the farther 
they went. And since that time some other "Spanish ships" 
have sunk into the sea. But as Columbus noticed that the tops 
of the masts dropped down out of sight, he said: "That is the 
way it is with this hoe handle; if vou go around this hoe handle, 
the farther off you go the farther down you go. I can sail around 
to the East Indies. How plain it all was. How simple the mind 
— majestic like the simplicity of a mountain in its greatness. 
Who are the great inventors? They are ever the simple, plain, 
everyday people who see the need and set about to supply it. 

I was once lecturing in North Carolina, and the cashier of the 
bank sat directly behind a lady who wore a very large hat. I 
said to that audience, "Your wealth is too near to you; you are 
looking right over it." He whtepered to his friend, "Well, then, 
mywealth is in that hat." A little later, as he wrote me, I said, 
"wherever there is a human need there is a greater fortune than 
a mine can furnish." He caught my thought, and he drew up his 
plan for a better hat pin than was m the hat before him, and the 
pin is now being maniifactured. He was offered fifty-five thou- 
sand dollars for his patent. That man made his fortune before 
he got out of that h^. This is the whole question: Do you see 
a need? 

I remember well a man up in my native hills, a poor man, who 
for twenty years was help^ by the town in his poverty, who 
owned a wide-spreadin|[ maple tree that covered the poor man's 
cottage like a b^ediction from on high. I remember that tree, 
for in the spring — ^there were some roguish boys around that 
neighborhood when I was young — ^in the spring of the year the 
man would put a bucket there and the spouts to catch the maple 
sap, and I remember where that budget was; and when I was 
young the boys were, oh, so mean, that they went to that tree 
before that man had gotten out of bed in the morning, and after 
he had gone to bed at night, and drank up that sweet sap. I 
could swear they did it. He didn't make a great deal of maple 
sugar from that tree. But one day he made the sugar so white 
and crystalline that the visitor did not believe it was maple sugar; 
thought maple sugar must be red or black. He said to the old 
man: "Why don't you make it that way and sell it for confec- 
tionery?" The old man caught his thought and invented the 
"rock maple crystal," and iSfore that patent expired he had 
ninety thousand dollars and had built a beautiful palace on the 
site of that tree. After forty years owning that tree he awoke to 
find it had forttmes of money indeed in it. And many of us are 
right by the tree that has a fortune for us, and we own it, possess 
it, do what we will with it, but we do not learn its value because 
we do not see the human need, and in these discoveries and in- 
ventions this is one of the most romantic things of life. 


I have reoeiyed letters from all over the country and from 
England, where I have lectured, saying that they have discovered 
this and that, and one man out in Ohio took me through his great 
factories last spring, and said that they cost him $680,000, and 
said he, " I was not worth a cent in the world when I heard 3rour 
lecture 'Acres of Diamonds;' but I made up my mind to stop 
right here and make my fortune here, and here it is." He showed 
me through his tmmortgaged possessions. And this is a continual 
experience now as I travdf through the country, after these many 
years. I mention this incident, not to boast, but to show you 
that you can do the same if you wilL 

Who are the great inventors? I remember a good illustration 
in a man who used to live in East Brookfield, Mass. He was a 
shoemaker, and he was out of work, and he sat around the house 
until his wife told him to " go out doors." And he did what every 
husband is compelled by law to do — ^he obeyed his wife. And he 
went out and sat down on an ash barrel in his back yard. Think 
of it! Stranded on an ash barrel and the enemy in possession of 
the house ! As he sat on that ash barrel, he looked down into that 
Httle brook which ran through that bade yard into the meadows, 
and he saw a little trout go flashing up the stream and hiding 
under the b^mk. I do not suppose he thought of Tennyson's 
beautiful poem: 

" Chatter, chatter, as I flow. 
To join the brimming river. 
Men may come, and men may go. 
But I go on forever." 

But as this man looked into the brook, he leaped off that ash 
barrel and managed to catch the trout with his nngers, and sent 
it to Worcester. They wrote back that they would give him a 
five dollar bill for another such trout as that, not that it was worth 
that much, but they wished to help the poor man. So this shoe- 
maker and his wife, now pofectfy united, that five dollar bill 
in prospect, went out to get another trout. They went up the 
stream to its source and down to the brimming river, but not 
another trout could they find in the whole stream; and so they 
came home disconsolate and went to the minister. The minister 
didn't know how trout grew, but he pointed the way. Said he, 
"Get Seth Green's book, and that will give you the information 
you want." They did so, and found all about the culture of 
trout. They found that a trout lays thirty-six htmdred ^gs 
every year and every trout gains a quarter of a potmd every year, 
so that in four years a little trout will furnish four tons per annum 
to sell to the market at fifty cents a pound. When tney fotmd 
that, they said they didn't believe any such story as that, but 
if they could get five dollars apiece they could make something. 


And right in that same back yard with the coal sifter up stream 
and window screen down the stream, they began the culture of 
trout. They afterwards moved to the Hudson, and since then he 
has become the authority in the United States upon the raising 
of fish, and he has been next to the highest on the United States 
Pish Commission in Washington. My lesson is that man's wealth 
was out there in his back yard for twenty years, but he didn't 
see it until his wife drove him out with a mop stick. 

I remember meeting personally a poor carpenter of Hingham, 
Massachusetts, who was out of work and in poverty. His wife 
also drove him out of doors. He sat down on the shore and 
whittled a soaked shingle into a wooden chain. His children 
quarreled over it in the evening, and while he was whittling a 
second one, a neighbor came along and said, "Why don't you 
whittle toys if you can carve like that? " He said, " I don't know 
what to make ! " There is the whole thing. His neighbor said to 
him : " Why don't you ask your own children? " Said he, " What 
is the use of doing that? My children are different from other 
people's children.' I used to see people like that when I taught 
school. The next morning when his boy came down the stairway, 
he said, *' Sam, what do you want for a toy? " *' I want a wheel- 
barrow." When his little girl came down, he asked her what she 
wanted, and she said, " I want a little doll's washstand, a little 
doll's carriage, a little doll's umbrella," and went on with a whole 
lot of things that would have taken his lifetime to supply. He 
consulted his own children right there in his own house and began 
to whittle out toys to please them. He began with his j£u:k- 
knife, and made those unpainted Hingham toys. He is the rich- 
est man in the entire New England States, if Mr. Lawson is to 
be trusted in his statement concerning such things, and yet that 
man's fortime was made by consulting his own children in his 
own house. You don't need to go out of your own house to find 
out what to invent or what to make. I always talk too long on 
this subject. 

I would like to meet the great men who are here to-night. The 
great men ! We don't have any great men in Philadelphia. Great 
men! You say that they all come from London, or Sai Francisco, 
or Rome, or Manayunk, or anywhere else but here — anywhere 
else but Philadelphia — and yet, in fact, there are just as great 
men in Philadelphia as in any city of its size. There are great 
men and women in this audience. Great men, I have said, are 
very simple men. Just as many great men here as are to be f oimd 
anywhere. The greatest error in judging great men is that we 
think that they always hold an office. The world knows nothing 
of its greatest men. Who are the great men of the world? The 
young man and young woman may well ask the question. It is 
not necessary that they should hold an office, and yet that is the 
popular idea. That is the idea we teach now in our high schools 


and common schools, that the great men of the world are those 
who hold some high office, and unless we change that very soon 
and do away with that prejudice, we are going to change to an em- 
pire. There is no question about it. We must teach that men are 
great only on their mtrinsic value, and not on the position that they 
may incidentally happen to occupy. And yet, don't blame the 
young men saying that they are going to be great when they get 
mto some official position. I ask this audience again who of you are 
going to be great? Says a young man : " I am going to be great." 

When are you going to be great? " " When I am elected to some 
political office." Won't you learn the lesson, yoimg man; that 
it is prima facie evidence of littleness to hold public office under 
our form of government? Think of it. This is a government of 
the people, and by the people, and for the people, and not for the 
office-holder, and if the people in this cotmtry rule as they always 
should rule, an office-holder is only the servant of the people, and 
the Bible says that "the servant cannot be greater than his 
master." The Bible says that "he that is sent cannot be greater 
than him who sent him." In this country the people are the 
masters, and the office-holders can never be greater than the 
people; they should be honest servants of the people, but they 
are not our greatest men. Yotmg man, remember that you never 
heard of a great man holding any political office in this country 
unless he took that office at an expense to himself. It is a loss 
to every ^eat man to take a pubhc office in our country. Bear 
this in mmd, young man, that you cannot be made great by a 
political election. 

Another young man says, " I am goingto be a great man in 
Philadelphia some time." "Is that so? When areyou going to 
be great?" "When there comes another war! When we get 
into difficulty with Mexico, or England, or Russia, or Japan, or 
with Spain again over Cuba, or witii New Jersey, I will march up 
to the cannon's mouth, and amid the glistening bayonets I will 
tear down their flag from its staff, and I will come home with 
stars on my shoulders, and hold every office in the gift of the 
government, and I will be great." "No, you won't! No, you 
won't; that is no evidence of true greatness, young man." But 
don't blame that young man for thinking that way; that is the 
way he is taught m the high school. That is the way history is 
taught in college. He is taught that the men who held the omce 
did all the fighting. 

I remember we had a Peace Jubilee here in Philadelphia soon 
after the Spanish war. Perhaps some of these visitors think we 
should not have had it until now in Philadelphia, and as the 
great procession was going up Broad street I was told that the 
tally-ho coach stopped right in front of my house, and on the 
coach was Hobson, and ^ the people threw up their hats and 
swung their handkerchiefs, and shouted "Hurrah for Hobson!" 


I would have veiled too, because he deserves much more of his 
country than he has ever received. But suppose I go into the 
High School to-morrow and ask, ''Boys, who stmk the Merri- 
mac? *' If they answer me " Hobson," tiiey tell me seven-eighths 
of a lie — seven-eighths of a lie, because there were eight men who 
sunk the Merrimac. The other seven men, by virtue of their 
position, were continually exposed to the Spanish fire, while 
Hobson, as an officer, might reasonably be behind the smoke- 
stack. Why, my friends, in this intemgent audience gathered 
here to-night I do not bdieve I could find a single person that 
can name the other seven men who were with Hobson. Why do 
we teach history in that way? We ought to teach that however 
humble the station a man may occupy, if he does his full duty in 
his place, he is just as much entitled to the American people's 
honor as is a king upon a throne. We do teach it as a mother 
did her little bo^ in New York when he said, ** Mamma, what 
great building is that?" "That is General Grant's tomb." 

Who was General Grant?" "He was the man who put down 
the rebellion." Is that the way to teach history? 

Do you think we would have gained a victory if it had de- 
pended on General Grant alone? Oh, no. Then why is there a 
tomb on the Hudson at all? Why, not simply because General 
Grant was personally a great man himself, but that tomb is there 
because he was a representative man and represented two hundred 
thousand men who went down to death for their nation and many 
of them as great as General Grant. That is why that beautiful 
tomb stands on the heights over the Hudson. 

I remember an incident that will illustrate this, the only one 
that I can give to-night. I am ashamed of it, but I don't dare 
leave it out. I dose my eyes now; I look back throu^ the years 
to 1863; I can see my native town in the Berkshire Hills, I can 
see that cattle-show ground filled with people; I can see the 
church there and the town hall crowded, and near bands playing, 
and see flags flying and handkerchiefs streaming — ^well do I recall 
at this moment that day. The people had turned out to receive 
a company of soldiers, and that company came marching upon 
the Common. They had served out one term in the Civil War 
and had reftnlisted, and they were being received by their native 
townsmen. I was but a boy, but I was captain of that company, 

guffed out with pride on that day — why, a cambric needle would 
ave burst me £ul to pieces. As I marched on the Common at 
the head of my company, there was not a man more proud than 
I. We marched into the town haU and then they seated my 
soldiers down in the center of the house and I took my place 
down on the front seat, and then the town officers filed through 
the great throng of people, who stood dose and packed in tluit 
little hall. They came up on the platform, formed a half cirde 
around it, and the mayor of the town, the "chairman of the 


Selectmen" in New England, took his seat in the middle of that 
half circle. He was an old man, his hair was gray; he never held 
an office before in his life. He thought that an office was all he 
needed to be a truly great man, and when he came up he adjusted 
his powerful spectacles and glanced calmly around the audience 
with amazing dignity. Suddenly his eyes fell upon me, and then 
the eood old man came right forward and invited me to come up 
on the stand with the town officers. Invited me up on the stand! 
No town officer ever took notice of me* before I went to war. 
Now, I should not say that. One town officer was there who 
advised the teacher to ** whale" me, but I mean no "honorable 
mention." So I was invited up on the stand with the town 
officers. I took my seat and let my sword fall on the floor, and 
folded my arms across my breast and waited to be received. 
Napoleon the Fifth! Pride goeth before destruction and a fall. 
When I had gotten my seat and all became silent through the 
hall, the chairman of the Selectmen arose and came forward 
with great dignity to the table, and we all supposed he would 
introduce the Congregational minister, who was the only orator 
in the town, and who would give the oration to the returning 
soldiers. But, friends, you should have seen the surprise that 
ran over that audience when they discovered that this old farmer 
was going to deliver that oration himself. He had never made a 
speech in his life before, but he fell into the same error that others 
have fallen into, he seemed to think that the office would make 
him an orator. So he had written out a speech and walked up 
and down the pasture until he had learned it by heart and 
frightened the cattle, and he brought that manuscript with him, 
and taking it from his pocket, he spread it carefully upon the 
table. Then he adjusted his spectacles to be sure that he might 
see it, and walked far back on the platform and then stepped 
forward like this. He must have studied the subject much, for 
he assumed an elocutionary attitude; he rested heavily upon his 
left heel, slightly advanced the right foot, threw back his shoul- 
ders, opened the organs of speech, and advanced his right hand 
at an angle of fortv-five. As- he stood in that elocutionary atti- 
tude this is just tne way that speech went, this is it precisely. 
Some of my friends have asked me if I do not exaggerate it, but 
I could not exaggerate it. Impossible! This is the way it went; 
although I am not here for the story but the lesson that is back 
of it: 

"Fellow citizens." As soon as he heard his voice, his hand 
began to shake like that, his knees began to tremble, and then 
he shook all over. He coughed and choked and finally came 
arotmd to look at his manuscript. Then he began again: "Fel- 
low citizens: We — are — we are — we are — we are — We are very 
happy — ^we are very happy — we are very happy — ^to welcome 
back to their native town these soldiers who have fought and 


bled — ^and come back again to their native town. We are espe- 
cially — we are especially — we are especially — ^we are especially 
pleased to see with us to-day this youn^ hero (that meant me) — 
this young hero who in imagination (friends, remember, he said 
"imagination," for if he had not said that, I would not be egotisti- 
cal enough to refer to it) — ^this young hero who, in imagination, 
we have seen leading his troops — ^leading — ^we have seen leading 
— we have seen leadmg his troops on to the deadly breach. We 
have seen his shining — ^his shining — ^we have seen his shining — 
we have seen his shining — ^his shining sword — flashing in the 
sunlight as he shouted to his troops, *Come on!' " 

Oh, dear, dear, dear, dear! How little that good, old man knew 
about war. If he had known anything about war, he ought to 
have known what any soldier in this audience knows is true, that 
it is next to a crime for an officer of infantry ever in time of danger 
to go ahead of his men. I, with my shining sword flashing in the 
sumight, shouting to my troops: "Come on." I never did it. 
Do you suppose I would go ahead of my men to be shot in the 
front by the enemy and in the back by my own men? That is 
no place for an officer. The place for the officer is behind the 
private soldier in actual fighting. How often, as a staff officer, I 
rode down the line when the Rebel cry and veil was coming out 
of the woods, sweeping along over the fields, and shouted, 
" Officers to the rear! Officers to the rear! " and then every officer 
goes behind the line of battle, and the higher the officer's rank, 
the farther behind he goes. Not because he is any the less brave, 
but because the laws of war require that to be done. If the gen- 
eral came up on the front line and were killed you would lose 
your battle anyhow, because he has the plan of the battle in his 
brain, and must be kept in comparative safetv. I, with my 
"shining sword flashing in the sunlight." Ah! There sat in 
the hall that day men who had given that boy their last hard- 
tack, who had carried him on their backs through deep rivers. 
But some were not there; they had gone down to death for their 
country. The speaker mentioned them, but they were but little 
noticed, and yet they had gone down to death for their country, 
gone down for a cause they believed was right and still believe 
was right, though I grant to the other side the same that I ask 
for myself. Yet these men who had actually died for their 
country were little noticed, and the hero of the hour was this 
boy. Why was he the hero? Simply because that man fell into 
that same foolishness. This boy was an officer, and those were 
only private soldiers. I learned a lesson that I will never forget. 
Greatness consists not in holding some office; greatness really 
consists in doing some great deed with little means, in the accom- 
plishment of vast purposes from the private ranks of hfe; that 
18 true greatness. He who can give to this people better streets, 
better homes, better schools, better churches, more religion, 


more of happiness, more of God, he that can be a blessing to the 
community m which he lives to-night will be great anywhere, but 
he who cannot be a blessing where he now lives will never be 
great anywhere on the face of God's earth. "We live in deeds, 
not years, in feeling, not in figures on a dial; in thoughts, not 
breaths; we should count time by heart throbs, in the cause of 
right." Bailey says: "He most lives who thinks most." 

If you forget everything I have said to you, do not forget this, 
because it contains more in two lines than all I have said. Bailey 
says: "He most lives who thinks most, who feels the noblest, 
and who acts the best." 



Delivered at the Funeral of Balzac, August 20, 1850. 

Gentlemen: The man who now goes down into this tomb is 
one of those to whom public grief pays homage. 

In one day all fictions have vanished. The eye is fixed not 
only on the heads that reign, but on heads that think, and the 
whole country is moved when one of those heads disappears. 
To-day we have a people in black because of the death of the man 
of talent; a nation in mourning for a man of genius. 

Gentlemen, the name of Balzac will be mingled in the luminous 
trace our epoch will leave across the future. 

Balzac was one of that powerful generation of writers of the 
nineteenth century who came after Napoleon, as the illustrious 
Pleiad of the seventeenth century came after Richelieu, — as if in 
the development of civilization there were a law which gives 
conquerors by the intellect as successors to conquerors by the 

Balzac was one of the first among the greatest, one of the 
highest amon^ the best. This is not the place to tell all that 
constituted this splendid and sovereign intelligence. All his books 
form but one book, — a book living, luminous, profound, where 
one sees coming and going and marching and moving, with I 
know not what of the formidable and terrible, mixed with the 
real, all our contemporary civilization; — a marvelous book which 
the poet entitled "a comedy" and which he could have called 
history; which takes all forms and all style, which surpasses 
Tacitus and Suetonius; which traverses Beaumarchais and 
reaches Rabelais; — a book which realizes observation and 
imagination, which lavishes the true, the esoteric, the common- 
place, the trivial, the material, and which at times through aU 
realities, swiftly and grandly rent away, allows us all at once a 
glimpse of a most sombre and tragic ideal. Unknown to himself, 
whether he wished it or not, whether he consented or not, the 


author of this immense and strange work is one of the strong 
race of Revolutionist writers. Baliac ^foes straight to the goal. 

Body to body he seizes modem soaety; from all he wrests 
something, from these an illusion, from those a hope; from one a 
catchword, from another a mask. He ransacked vice, he dis- 
sected passion. He searched out and sounded man, soul, heart, 
entrails, brain, — ^the abyss that each one has within himself. 
And by grace of his free and vigorous nature; by a privilege of 
the intelfect of our time, which, having seen revolutions face to 
face, can see more dearly the destiny of humanity and compre- 
hend Providence better, — Balzac redeemed himself smiling and 
severe from those formidable studies which produced melan- 
choly in MoU^re and misanthropy in Rousseau. 

This is what he has accompli^ed among us, this is the work 
which he has left us, — a work lofty and solid, — a monument 
robustly piled in layers of granite, from the height of which 
hereafter nis renown shall shine in splendor. Great men make 
their own pedestal, the future will be answerable for the statue. 

His death stupefied Paris! Only a few months ago he had 
come back to Prance. Feeling that he was dying, he wished to 
see his countrjr again, as one who would embrace his mother on 
the eve of a distant vovage. His life was short, but full, more 
filled with deeds than days. 

Alas! this powerful worker, never fatigued, this philosopher, 
this thinker, this poet, this genius, has lived among us that life 
of storm, of strife, of quarrel and combats, common in all times 
to all great men. To-day he is at peace. He escapes contention 
and hatred. On the same day he enters into glory and the tomb. 
Thereafter beyond the clouds, which are above our heads, he will 
shine among the stars of his country. All you who are here, are 
you not tempted to envy him? 

Whatever may be our grief in presence of such a loss, let us 
accept these catastrophes with resignation! Let us accept in it 
whatever is distressing and severe; it is good perhaps, it is neces- 
sary perhaps, in an epoch like ours, that from time to time the 
great dead shall communicate to spirits devoured with skepticism 
and doubt, a religious fervor. Providence knows what it does 
when it puts the people face to face with the supreme m>rsteiy 
and when it p[ives them death to reflect on,— 4ieath which is 
supreme equality, as it is also supreme liberty. Providence knows 
what it does, since it is the greatest of all instructors. 

There can be but austere and serious thoughts in all hearts when 
a sublime spirit makes its majestic entrance into another life, 
when one of those beings who have long soared above the crowd 
on the visible wings of genius, spreading all at once other wings 
which we did not see, plunges swiftly into the unknown. 

No, it is not the unknown; no, I have said it on another sad 
occasion and I shall repeat it to-day, it is not night, it is light. 


It is not the end, it is the beginning! It is not extinction, it is 
eternity 1 Is it not true, my hearers, such tombs as this demon- 
strate nnmortality? In presence of the illustrious dead, we feel 
more distinctly the divme destiny of that intelligence which 
traverses the earth to suffer and to purify itself, — which we call 


Names of speakers and writers referred to are set in 
CAPITALS. Other references are printed in "lower 
case/' or " small/' type. Because of the large number 
of fragmentary quotations made from speeches and 
books, no titles are indexed, but all such material will 
be found indexed under the name of its author. 

Accentuation, 150. 
Addison, Joseph, 134. 
Ade, George, 252. 
After-Dinner Speaking,362- 

Analogy, 223. 

Analysis, 225. 

Anecdote, 251-255; 364. 

Anglo-Saxon words, 338. 

Antithesis, 222. 

Applause, 317. 

Argument, 280-294. 

Aristotle, 344. 

Articulation, 148-149. 

Association of ideas, 347, 

Attention, 346, 347. 

Auditory images, 324, 348, 



Bacon, FRANas, 225, 226, 

Bagehot, Walter, 249. 
Baker, George P., 281. 

Baldwin, C. S., 16, 92. 
Barrie, James M., 339- 

Bates, Arlo, 222-223. 

Beecher, Henry Ward, 3,' 

6, 3i> 7^78; ii3> 139. 
186, 188, 223, 265, 275, 

343> 346, 351-352. 
Bernhardt, Sara, 105. 
Berol, Felex, 344. 
Beveridge, Albert, J., 22, 

35, 46, 67, 107, 47^483- 
BiRRELL, Augustine, 97. 
Blaine, James G., 368. 
BoNa, SiGNOR, 124. 
Books, 191-197; 207-210. 
Breathing, 1 29-131. 
Briefs, 177, 210-214, 290- 

Brisbane, Arthur, 19. 
Brooks, Phillips, 356. 
Brougham, Lord, 338. 
Bryan, William Jennings, 
-• 32, 6orii6; 157^269-; 273, 

274, 27sr' 276? 277; 302, 





Bryant, William Cullen, 

Burns, Robert, 39. 
Burroughs, John, 116. 
Byron, Lord, 64, 87, 145, 

188, 189, 199. 

Caesar, Julius, 175. 

Campbell, Thomas, 121. 

Carleton, Will, 334. 

Carlyle, Thomas, 42, 57, 
IDS, 109, 194, 218, 249, 

Cato, 356, 372. 

Chambers, Robert, 19. 

Change of pace, 39-49. 

Character, 357-3S8. 

Channing, William 
Ellery, 177. 

Charm, 134-144. 

Child, Richard Wash- 
burn, 376. 

Choate, Rupus, 464-469. 

Churchill, Winston 
Spencer, 89. 

Cicero, 115. 

Classification, 224. 

Cleveland, Grover, 367- 

Cohan, George, 376. 

Coleridge, S. T., 373. 

Collins, Wilkie, 60. 

Comfort, W. L., 235. 

Comparison, 19. 

Conceit, 4. 

Concentration, 3, 57, 80-84; 

34^347; 374- 

Confidence, 1-8; 184, 263- 

27s; 350, 358-360. 
Contrast, 19, 222. 
Conver^tion, 372-377. 
CoNWELL, Russell, 200, 

Cornwall, Barry,i38,i84. 

CowPER, William, 69, 121. 

Cranch, Christopher P., 

Cromwell, Oliver, 95, 

Crowd, Influencing the, 

262-278; 308-320. 
Ctesiphon, 116. 
Curtis, George Welllam, 



Dana, Charles, 18, 200. 
Daniel, John Warwick, 

Dante, 106. 

De Amicis, Edmondo, 238. 
Debate, Questions for, 290, 

Definition, 222, 224. 

Delivery, methods of, 171- 

De Maupassant, Guy, 187, 

Demosthenes, 67, 363. 

Depew, Chauncey M., 

De Quincey, Thomas, 255- 

256; 338. 
Description, 231-247. 

I- T 




Dickens, Charles, 5, 234, 

246, 247. 
Discarding, 224. 
Disraeli, Isaac, ioi, 321. 
Distinctness, 146-152. 
Division, 224, 225. 


Egotism, 376. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 
10, 97, 103, 104, 105, 122, 
144, 168, 188, 201, 231, 

29S> 321, 3S7> 362, 372. 
Emphasis, 16-24; 31-32; 47, 

Enthusiasm, 101-109; 267, 

304, 3"- 
Enunciation, 150-152. 

Everett, Edward, 78-79. 

Example, 223. 

Exposition, 218-228. 

Extemporaneous Speech, 


Facial Expression, 163. 
Feeling, 101-109; 240, 264- 

265; 295-305; 312, 317, 

Figures of speech, 235, 277, 

Flaubert, Gustave, 339. 

Fluency, 115-123; 179, 184- 

197; 354, 373- 
Force, 87-97. 

Galton, Francis, 323. 
Gaskell, Mrs., 186. 
Generalization, 226. 
Genung, John Franklin, 

55, 92, 220, 226, 281. 
George, Henry, 344. 
Gesture, 150-168. 
Gibbon, Edward, 175. 
Gladstone, William E., 

2, 8, 124, 157, 372. 
Goethe, J. W. von, 117, 

Goldsmith, Oliver, 121. 

Gordon, G. B., 365-366. 

GouGH, John B., 188. 

Grady, Henry W., 38, 240- 

242; 252-253; 268, 365, 

Graham, Harry, 255. 
Gustatory images, 325, 348. 


Habit, 190, 349. 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 

Hamlet, 88-89; ^ 5 2-1 53- 
Hancock, Prof. Albert 

E., 335. 
Hart, J. M., 338. 
Hay, John, 443-448. 
Hearn, Lafcadio, 238. 
Henley, William Ernest, 

122, 271-272. ^,:i H ;^ 
Henry, O., 247, 328-329., 




Henry, Patrick, 22, 102, 
103, 107, 110-112; 201, 
271, 276. 

Hesiod, 146. 

Hill, A. S., 92, 281. 

HiLLis, Newell Dwight, 

24,32, 191-193; 273-274; 

Hoar, George, 296-297. 

HoBSON, Richmond Pear- 
sod, 285-286; 287-289. 

Hogg, James, 139. 

Holmes, G. C. V., 226, 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 

148, 373- 
HoLYOAKE, George Jacob, 

280, 281. 
Homer, 146, 235. 
HoTJDiN, Robert, 350. 
HtJBBARD, Elbert, 3. 
Hugo, Victor, 107, 503- 

Humor, 251-255; 363-365- 
Huxley, T. H., 227. 

Imagination, 321-333. 
Imitation, 335-336. 
Inflection, 69-74. 
Ingersoll, Robert J., 68, 

Irving, Washington, 5, 

23Sj 236, 246. 
Irving, Sir Henry, 158. 

Jameson, Mrs. Anna, 69. 
Jones-Foster, Ardennes, 

Jonson, Ben, 343. 

James, Wiluam, 349. 

Kaueman, Herbert, 42- 

Kipling, Rudyard, 4, 299- 


KiRKHAM, Stanton Davis, 



Landor, Walter Savage, 

Lee, Gerald Stanley, 308. 

Library, Use of a, 207-210. 

Lincoln, Abraham, 50, 

107, 166. 
Lindsay, Howard, 40. 
Locke, John, i88, 343. 
Longfellow, H. W., 117, 

124, 136. 
LooMis, Charles Battell, 

LoTi, Pierre, 238. 

Lowell, James Russell, 


Macaulay, T. B., 76. 
Maclaren, Alexander, 

McBIiNLEY, Wiluam, Last 

Speech, 438-442; Tribute 

to, by John Hay, 443. 




Massillon, i88. 
Memory, 343-354. 
Merwin, Samuel, 72. 
Messaros, Waldo, 147. 
Mnx, John Stuart, 355. 
Milton, John, 137. 
Monotony, Evils of, 10-12; 
How to conquer, 12-14; 

MoRLEY, John, 403-410. 

Moses, 115. 

Motor images, 324, 348. 

Motte, Antoine, 10. 

MozLEY, James, 235. 


Napoleon, 13, 104, 141, 

184, 321. 
Narration, 249-260. 
Naturalness, 14, 29, 58, 70. 
Notes, see Briefs. 


Observation, 167-168; 186- 
188; 206-207; 223, 227, 

Occasional speaking, 362- 

Olfactory images, 325, 348. 

Outline of speech, 212-214. 

Pace, Change of, 39-49. 
Paine, Thomas, 122. 
Parker, Alton B., 423. 

Parker, Theodore, 257- 

Patch, Dan, 2. 
Paul, 2, 107. 
Pause, 55-64. 
Personality, 355-360. 
Persuasion, 295-307. 
PmLUPS, Arthur Edward, 

227, 229. 
Phillips, Charles, 302- 

Phillips, Wendell, 25-26; 

34-35; 38, 72, 97> 99-100. 

Pitch, change of, 27-35; 

low, 32, 69. 


Platitudes, 376, 377. 
Pope, Alexander, 122, 

i7S> 231. 
Posture, 165. 
Practise, Necessity for, 2, 

14, 118. 
Precision of utterance, 146- 

Preparation, 4-5; 179, 184- 

215; 362-365. 

Preyer, Wilhelm T., 188. 

Proportion, 205. 

Putnam, Daniel, 80. 

Quintilian, 344. 


Reading, 191-197. 
Redway, 170. 




Reference to Experience, 

Repetition in memorizing, 

Reserve power, 184-197. 

Right thinking, 355-360. 

Robespierre, 153-155. 

Rogers, Samuel, 343. 

Roosevelt, Texodore, 

27s, 416-422. 

RusKiN, John, 89, 90, 188. 

Saintsbury, George, 55. 
Savonarola, 158, 161. 
ScALiGER, 343. 
ScHAEPER, Nathan C, 262, 



Schiller, J. C. F., 117. 

Scott, Walter Dill, 8. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 271. 

Self-confidence, See Confi- 

Self-consciousness, 1-8. 

Seward, W. H., 65-68. 

Shakespeare, William, 
22, 32, 82, 88-89; 122, 
152-153; 161, 164, 227, 
295, 302, 312-317; 321. 

Sheppard, Nathan, 147, 
156, 170. 

SiDDONs, Mrs., 48, 70. 

Sidney, Sir Philip, 188. 

Sincerity, 109. 

Smith, F. Hopkinson, 365. 

Spencer, Herbert, 58, 69. 

Stage fright, 1-8. 
Stevenson, R. L., 122, 
196, 201, 238, 242-243; 

Story, Joseph, 298. 

Subject, Choosing a, 201- 

Subjects for speeches and 

debates, 121-123; 379- 

Suggestion, 262-278; 30S- 


Sunday, "Billy," 90, 158. 

Suspense, 59-61. 

Syllogism, 286. 

Tactile images, 325, 348. 
Talmage, T. DeWitt, 237. 

Tempo, 39-49- 
Tennyson, Alfred, 121, 

Thackeray, W. M., 343. 
Thoreau, H. D., 188. 
Thought, 184-197; 265,347, 

Thurston, James Mellen, 

50-54; 302. 
Titles, 215. 

Toombs, Robert, 410-415. 
Twain, Mark, 343, 363, 


Van Dyke, Henry, 365. 
Visualizing, 323, 348, 349. 
Vocabulary, 334-341- 


51? IKDBZ 

Voice, 32, 124-144. 



WATTESSON9 Henry, 303, 

Webster, Daniel, 2, 73, 

103, 109, 201, 278; Eulogy 

of, by Rufus Choate, 

Weed, Thurlow, 349. 

Wendell, Prof: Barrett, 

Wescott, John W., 424- 

Whitefield, George, z6i. 

Whittier, J. G., 48. 

Will power, 356-359; 373, 

Words, 92, 93, 336-341 ; 374- 

Young, Edward, 90. 


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